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J 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH 



a Dovel 



FROM THE POLISH OF ELIZA ORZESZKOaU 



TRANSLATED BY 

IZA YOUNG 



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

MICHAEL ELVIRO ANDRIOLLI 






NEW YORK 
W. L. ALLISON CO. 

PUBLISHERS 

• • 



Copyright, 1898, 
By W. L. ALLISON CO. 



287043 






« ^ 






w b 



>---.v www -- * 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 



PROLOGUE. 

I^ one of the remotest corners of Volhynia, at d^reat 
distance from the railway and the navigable river DewinU, 
in the midst of a vast plain, at the conjunction of two sandy 
high-roads, which, at a distance, lose themselves in the 
depth of the forest, lies a little town of some eight hundred 
houses ; some are very small, others larger, but all cling 
close together, as if for mutual protection and company. 
The name of the town is Szybow, and its inhabitants are 
mostly Israelites, more so than any other Polish town, as 
the whole Christian element is represented by one little 
street, on the outskirts, inhabited by people of the artisan 
class. It is the only street which is quiet and where flowers 
are to be seen in summer time. No flowers are to be found 
in any other part of the town, and there is a constant noise. 
People are continually on the move, running, talking, and 
gesticulating frantically, either inside their houses or in 
the dirty lanes, called streets by courtesy. On the wide 
market-square innumerable little doors open into evil- 
smelling shops, heaps of dirt and rubbish, showing the 
amount of business done from week to week, with the 
country people around. Over and above all this noise and 

dirt rises a stately building of a quaint character, an 

3 



' 4 PUOLOGUE. 



. as sacli I 



r 

^m excellent specimen of. Israelitisb architecture, and 

^1 interesting to the-. fainter and the archaeologist. One 

^V glance ia Bufficiefit^ to show it is a place of worship, and 

^K yet it is unlike any other place of worship. The four high 

^f and maseiyewiQls present the monotonous lines of a square, 

the dark-br'CHvn color stained here and there by patches of 

silvery or. orange lichen gives them the impression of sad- 

neeg^flJid dignity. The long rows of narrow windows at 

.a-^eat distance from a base are not unlike the portholes 

of a fortress, the heavy, three-storied roof looks like three 

I giant, lichen -stained mushrooms one above the other. 
Under the shadow of this venerable pile nestle all the 
principal buildings ; a low, two-windowed dwelling, black- 
ened by age, is the abode of the far-famed Rabbi Todros, 
occupied for centuries by one of the same family. 
Whilst in other parts of tlie town the people are almost 
smothered in mad or dust, the precincts of the sacred 
hnildings are maintained in perfect order and cleanliness ; 

Pthe court is paved with white and even stones, on which 
not even a stray leaf or blade of straw are allowed to linger. 
The importance attached to the little town, not only by 
its own inhabitants, but also by their co-religionists of the 
adjacent provinces, may be fitly illustrated by a short 
dialogue between a nobleman and hia Jewish factor. 
Smiling and cap in hand, the latter stood waiting in the 
door. The nobleman was in a jovial mood and inclined to 
be facetious. 

" Chaimek," he said, " have you ever been in Cracow?" 
"No, illustrious Pan, I have never been there," said 
the Jew. 



PROLOGUE. r, 



) 



>9 

if 

99 



'^ That makes you feel very small, eh, Chaimek ?*' 

^* Chaimek ! have you seen Rome ? 

^^ No, illustrious Pan, I have not seen Eome. 

*^ Then you are a very foolish and ignorant Chaimek. 

The Jew drew a few steps nearer, about his lips a smile 
so typical of his shrewd race, which might express any- 
thing, humble flattery, consciousness of power, or veiled 
sarcasm. 

^* I beg the illustrious Pan's pardon, '^ he said softly, 
*'but has the illustrious Pan ever been in Szybow ? '* 

Szybow was some twenty leagues distant from where the 
above dialogue took place. 

*^ No, I have never been in Szybow," said the nobleman. 

^* Who is to judge now," gently murmured Chaimek. 

It is not known whether the nobleman appreciated his 
factor's retaliation, but it shows that Szybow was to Chai- 
mek of the same importance as Cracow and Rome to his 
master, the centre of his civil and religious authority. 

If Chaimek had been further questioned why he attached 
so much importance to a little out-of-the-way place, he 
would have mentioned the two families of Ezofovitch and 
Todros. 

The first represented wealth and worldly power, the 
second, religious authority and learning. For centuries 
the family of Todros had been as a beacon of light to 
Israel, the very ark where religious traditions were preserved 
in primitive purity. 

Was this so in reality ? 

Some of the learned Talmudists smiled dubiously and 
spoke in a sad undertone when the learning of the Todros 



PEOLOQUE. 

was mentioned, bnt the masses believed in them and came 
to Hzybow from distant places in search of wisdom, spirit- 
ual, and bodily advice. 

Szybow hud not always posaesBed this shining light. Its 
first inhabitants and founders belonged to the sect of 
Karaites, the protestants of Israel. Driven out from the 
Chersonese, where they had fuled the country for several 
centuries, double onteosts from Palestine and the Crimea, 
they dispersed over the face of the earth, with nothing but 
the remembrance of past splendors and tlie Bible their 
only law. Invited by the Grand Dnke of Lithuania in the 
fourteenth century, a few settled in his dominions and built 
the town of Szybow. 

In those times there was a deadly quiet and darkness 
prevailing on Friday night, as the Karaites in opposition 
to the Talmndists did not usher in the Sabbath with glar- 
ing lights and feasting ; but sat in darkness, meditating 
and mourning tlie downfall of the Temple and national 



From the dark narrow windows, low wailings and plain- 
tive melodies welled forth, in which the fathers told their 
children about the prophets on the rivers of Babylon who 
severed the fingers from their hands so as not to be forced 
to play and sing in captivity. 

But a time came when here and there in the houses 
lights appeared, choral prayers, and sounds of feasting 
yrere heard. The Rabbinists had made their appearance 
in the town. Worshippers of the Talmud, and blind 
.believers in the oral traditions, collected and transmitted 
hy the Cohens, F" '*" and Gaons, it was not likely they 




I 



PROLOGUE. 7 

would live side bj side with the heretic Karaites, Tlie 
little commuuity dissolved itself gradually, and flually dis- 
appeared under the last blow given by Michael Ezofovitch, 
Senior, a man well known in the annals of the Folisli 
leraelites. 

This was the first Ezofovitch whose name appears be- 
fore the public, in the beginning of tlie sixteenth century. 
Under the influence of a high civilization, wise and jwat 
laws, he had become a staunch partisan of the nation who 
had given shelter and protection to his race. 

Consequently King Sigismnnd I. gave him the title of 
Senior and authority over all the Jewish population in 
Ldthnania and the adjacent provinces by royal decree. 

"We, Sigismnnd, by the Grace of God, etc., give 
hereby to know that considering the faithful services of 
the Jew, Michael Ezofovitch, we nominate him Senior over 
all the Jews in our dominions ; to attend to their affairs, so 
that there should be no delay or hindrance to rule them 
'nccording to their laws, and punish offenders with our 
'consent and according to justice." 

Judging from history, the Senior must have been a man 
of strong character and mental capacities far beyond his 
time. He ruled with a strong hand, and those that would 
not submit he expelled, as for instance the Karaites, 
whom he deprived of all rights of fellowship. Under this 
blow, the existence of the Karaites, precarious and linger- 
ing already, was doomed to a speedy end. 

Poor, persecuted, yet tenaciously holding to their faith, 
the descendants of the Kharson rulers left the town, all but 

few families who clung to the spot where their tfttheTa 



'i 



r 



PROLOGUE. 



liad lived and died. The Habbinists took poaseasion of the 
town, destroyed the lieretic temple, and, through their in- 
domitable energy and mutual co- operation, changed the sad 
little town into a place full of motion, bustle, and wealth. 

Throughout the kingdom the Israelites were greatly 
prosperous under the rule of the Senior. Besides material 
well-being, there began to dawn a new era of civilization, 
which promised to raise them from the depths of ignorance 
and social degradation. 

Great indeed must have been the sagacity of the Senior, 
that, in midst of superstitions accumulated for centuries, he 
recognized the spirit of the time and the wants of his 
people. It waB not fanaticism so much which made him 
banish the Karaites as a social and administrative neces- 
sity ; though as a Eabbinist he was bound to recognize re- 
ligious authorities, but even as to these grave doubts assailed 
his spirit. 

In one of his petitions to the king. In which he defends 
himself from charges brought against him by his enemies, 
he writes sadly, almost ironically : 

" Our books are often contradictory ; often we do not 
know how to act, as Eliezer says go this way, and Gama- 
liel, go the other. There is one truth in Jerusalem, an- 
other in Babylon (two editions of the Talmud which 
contradict each other). We listen to the second Moses 
(Maimonides) and others call him a heretic. I encourage 
learned men to write wise books fit for the understanding 
of the intelligent and the simple minds. " 

At the same period great controversies waged amongst 
the Jews of France and Spain as to whether worldly kuowl- 



PROLOGUE. 9 

edge was admissible for the true believer of the Talmud 
and Bible. Opinions were for and against it; but the 
partisans who were for excluding the Jews from all worldly 
knowledge were by far the most powerful. 

"Beware of Greek wisdom/' exclaimed Joseph Esobi 
to his son, ^^ it is like the vineyards of Sodoma, full of 
drunkenness and sin. Then all the Rabbis and Elders 
issued a command prohibiting worldly knowledge to all 
under thirty years of age.'' 

"Babbi/' said some of the bolder spirits, ^^how can we 
acquire knowledge at an age when the spirit becomes faint 
and memory and energy are on the wane ? '* 

Nevertheless the law remained in force. The intellect 
became blunted, and youthful aspirations were crushed in 
the bud. Then a great wave of darkness came over the 
people. The times had gone by when their nation pro- 
duced great and wise men, beloved by the people and 
honored by kings. Past and forgotten, the lofty doctrines 
of Maimonides, who tried to establish the truth of the 
Kble and the Talmud upon mathematical and astronom- 
ical foundations, and expressed a desire to compress the 
voluminous Talmud into one chapter, provided it were 
fflade clear to every understanding ; who did not encour- 
age blind submission to religious doctrines, and said that 
®y68 were given to mankind to see before them, but not 
behind, and that there would be a time when the world 
would be as full of knowledge as the sea is full of water. 

The tomb of Maimonides was silent, but not unforgotten 
amidst the increasing darkness. His memory was cursed, 
and fanatical hands tore down the inscription full of grati- 



10 PBOLOGUK 

, tude nud praiae and substituted the dry and cruel sentence, 

'- Here lies Mokbh Blaimonides, accursed heretic." 

Dissertations like tliose among tlie Western Jews also took 
place in Poland, though, living under a mild and just gov- 
ernment, the Jews did not manifest the same passionate 
hatred towards foreign races. On the contrary, a great 
many called out for wider knowledge and a brotherly ahare 
in the progress of the nation. At t!ie head of this party 
■ was Michael Ezofovitch, the Lithuanian Senior, Mainly 
throngh his influence, the Jewish Synod issued the fol- 
lowing proclamation : 

" Jehovah has many Sephiroth, and Adam many emana- 
tions of equal perfection. The Israelite must not rest ' 
satisfied with one knowledge (the religious). The apple of 
Paradise is the best, but that is no reason why they should 
not taste other fruit, though less perfect, Jews were at 
the courts of kings. Mardocheus was a sage ; Esther, full 
of wisdom ; Nehemias, a Persian councillor, and brought 
his people out of bondage. The Jews are like the stars in 
heaven and the sand of the sea ; they do not shine like 
stars, but everybody crushes them underfoot like sand. 
The wind carries the seed of different plants ; who asks 
whence comes the finest tree ? why should not we prodnce I 
the cedar of Lebanon instead of barren thistles." 

The man under whose influence was written this proc- 
lamation awakening the Jews to a new life, met face to 
face with another man, whose eyes looked back into the 
past and darkness. This was Nehemias Todros, newly ' 
arrived from Spain — a descendant of Todros Abulafi Halevi, ■ 




PROLOGUE. 11 

— famous for his deep study of the Talmud, till his mind, 
altogether under the influence of cabalistic (occult) mys- 
teries, he became the originator of one of the worst errors 
under which the spirit of a nation could labor. It is said 
that the same Nehemias Todros introduced the book of 
Zohar, with its pernicious doctrines, into Poland, and that 
the Cabala, mixed with the Talmud, exercised the worst 
influence upon the minds of the Polish Jews. History 
does remark upon the dissensions that took place at the 
introduction of the new doctrines amongst the people, who 
were just emerging to a brighter life ; but tradition, care- 
fully preserved amongst family annals, describes the des- 
perate struggle between Michael Ezofovitch, a Jew of 
Polish descent, and Nehemias Todros, the Spanish new- 
comer. The first succumbed. Torn by grief, at the sight 
of his people led astray and his own powerlessness, he died 
in the prime of his life. His name was carefully preserved 
in the family from generation to generation ; they were 
proud of his position, though with the lapse of time they 
understood less and less its real importance. From that 
time forth the supremacy of the Todros became an estab- 
lished fact. Thenceforth, the house of Ezofovitch devoted 
itself entirely to the accumulation of wealth. The great 
rivers carried their ships, laden with the produce of the 
country, into foreign ports, and the mean little town be- 
came the centre of commercial enterprise. Proud of their 
success, they left off caring altogether for that power which 
Nehemias Todros had wrenched from their ancestor 
Michael. 
The descendants of Todros continued to live in the little 



12 PROLOGUE. 

hut near the synagogue ; devoted entirely to sacred stud 
they led a life of austere severity, harren of all domforti 
life, and their learning, combined with aseetism, tern 
to increase their influence over the maeaea far beyond 
region of the town. 




PROLOGUE. 13 



11. 

It was toward the end of the last century. In Warsaw, 
the diet, called the Four Years' Diet, had assembled. News 
of their discussions reached the little Jewish town. The 
people opened their ears and listened eagerly, full of ex- 
pectations. They are discussing the Jewish question. 

What do they say about us ? What do they write ? 
Those were the questions bearded Jews, in long gaberdines, 
repeated to each other. The curiosity grew day by day 
to such an extent as to cause stagnation in business. 
Some even went so far as to risk the long and troublesome 
journey to Warsaw, so as to be nearer the source of events. 
Once arrived there, they sent long letters, old newspapers, 
and pamphlets to their brethren, which arrived battered 
and crushed from the long transit. 

Amongst those who remained in town and listened for 
news most anxiously were two men ; the Rabbi Nochim 
Todros, and Hersz Ezofovitch, the wealthy merchant. 
There was a silent antagonism and smouldering aversion 
^tween the descendant of Michael Senior, the disciple of 
Maimonides, and the descendant of the fanatical Nehemias 
Todros, which waited only for a chance to burst into 
flames. 

One day, a little paper, crushed and soiled in the passage, 
arrived from Warsaw, and there were written the following 
words : — 



line, which 1 



14 PROLOGUE. 

" All difference of dress, language, and coBtumej 
Beparatea the Jews from the other inhabitants, to be 
abolished. Everything which concerns their religion to 
be refepected. The different sects to be tolerated in so far 
8 they do not act perniciously upon the morals. No Jew. 
to be admitted to baptism before the twenty-first year of his 
age. Full permission for the Jews to acquire landed prop- 
jrty ; to those who wish to cultivate the soil, remission of 
taxes for four years, and a free gift of agricultural im- 
pleraente. Marriage prohibited to men under twenty, and 
to women under eighteen years of age," 

This little paper was carried about the streets, read a 
hundred times, waved into the air like a flag of mourning 
or of joy, until, in those thousands of eager hands it dis- 
persed into atoms. 

The people of Szybow did not express their opinion about 
what thej had read at once. One party, by far the smaller, 
looked with questioning eyes at Hersz Ezofovitch, the 
majority scanned the face of Eabbi Nochim Todros, 
Rabbi Nochini crossed the threshold of his dwelling, 
raised bis lean arms high above his gray locks and called 
out, — 

"Assybe! assybe ! daidol" 

" Distresa ! distress! woe!" repeated the crowd as- 
sembled in the precincts, after him. 

Hersz Ezofovitch stood erect at the door of the syna- 
gogue, with one hand upon the Rash of his satin garments 
caressing his beard with the other. He raised his head 
proudly, and in deep thrilling tones exclaimed : 

"Hope ! hope ! joy 1" 



J 



PBOLOGUK 16 

"Hope ! hope! joy !*' repeated the party of his ad- 
herents in a less assured yoice^ easting sidelong glances at 
the rabbi. 

The old man had keen ears ; he heard ; his white beard 
trembled and his eyes flashed fire. 

"They want to shave our beards and make us wea^ 
modem abominations/' he called out wrathfully. 

"It will make our intelligence all the longer and widen 
our hearts and brains/' said the clear voice from the steps 
of the Temple. 

"They will harness us to the plough, and force us to 
till the soil of bondage/' shouted Eeb Nochim. 

"They will open the treasures of the earth for us, and 
hid us cultivate the land as our own,'' said Hersz. 

"They will not allow us to eat the food according to 
our laws and will make Israel a barren waste. The faces 
of your sons will be covered with hair long before they 
have wives of their own." 

" When they get their wives their brains and limbs will 
be all the stronger." 

" Our sons will be compelled to learn wisdom from the 
Edomite and drink from the vineyards of Sodoma." 

'* It brings nearer to us the great day ( Jobel-ha-Gadel) 
when the lamb will lie down with the lion." 

" Hersz Ezof ovitch ! Hersz Ezof ovitch ! out of your 
™outh speaks your ancestor Michael, who wanted to lead 
Israel into alien bonds." 

'' Reb Nochim ! Eeb Nochim. Your eyes reflect the 
soul of your forefather who brought the night of darkness 
^pon the children of Israel." 



I 




16 PSOLOOUE. 

Thus in the midst of a dense, silent crowd stood those 
two against each other. Nochim's voice became more 
strident and cutting, and his jellow face was marked with 
two red spots. The voice of Hersz waa deep and thrilling 
and his face very pale. Whilst the rabhi swayed his body 
in convulsive motions, the merchant stood erect and quiet, 
his white hand still resting npon the sash of his garmeuta, 
but his whole houI seemed concentrated in his gleaming 
eyes. 

Several thousand eyes wandered from the face of one 
champion to the other, all the lips quivered, but there was ' 
no sound. 

Again the strident tones of Eeb Nochim's voice pierced 
the air : 

" Assybe, assybe, daige. It sounded almost like a sob 
of anguish from the depth of his lieart. 

"Hope I hope! joy!" shouted the ringing voice of 
Hersz. 

The crowd still remained silent ; presently their heads 
began to move almost simultaneously, and a murmur like 
the gentle rushing of water made itself heard ; it gradually , 
increased and grew louder, till suddenly many thousand 
hands were raised as if in pain or terror, and thousands of 
throats wailed forth : 

"■ Aasybe, assybe, daige ! " (Woe ! woe ! distress ! ) 

Eeb Nochim Todroa had won the day. 

Hersz looked slowly around. His pai'tisans stood near 
him still, but silent, with bent heads and seared faces. 
Hersz smiled scornfully. The crowd still wailing streamed 
into the synagogue with Reb Nochim at their head, who 



PROLOGUE. 17 

in a loud voice intoned the prayer in time of danger and 
sudden calamity. When the brown walls resounded with 
the sobbing voices : 

" Lord, save thy people, save from destruction the faith- 
ful children of Israel.'^ The young merchant slowly de- 
scended the steps, crossed the market-place and disap- 
peared in one of the largest houses. Hersz had built it 
for himself recently ; it looked clean and new. Hersz 
sank down upon the nearest stool and buried his face in 
his hands. He sat lost in thought for a long while, then 
straightened himself and called out : 

'-'Freida! Freida!". 

The door of the next room opened almost instantly, and 
on the threshold stood a tall, slender woman in a snow- 
white turban and long white apron, that fell in soft folds 
from her neck to the bottom of her gown. The bright 
flames of the hearth played fitfully around her and re- 
flected in the rows of pearls around her throat. There was 
a glad light in her large black eyes as she stood opposite 
her husband questioning him only by the expression of 
her face. 

" Freida ! " he began, ^^have you heard what has been 
going on in town ? '' 

" Yes, I heard,^' she said in a gentle voice ; '' my brother 
Jos6 came in and told me you had a bitter quarrel with 
Reb Nochim.'^ 

"He wants to crush me as he crushed my fore- 
father. '' 

Freida^s eyes grew suddenly larger with fear. 

" Hersz I^'she exclaimed, "do not quarrel with him ; he 



J8 FROLOGUE. 

is a great man, a holy man, and the people will be with 



I 

■ " Have no fear," said the husband, smiling, " he can do 

^1 me no harm. Times have changed. I cannot help speak- 

^ ing out when the heart is full and look on indifEerently 

whilst the silly crowd shouts after him ; but they cannot 

help it, nobody ever taught them the difference between 

right and wrong, the past and the future." 

After a short silence, Hersz began again : 

"Freida!" 

" Yes, Heraz." 

" You have not forgotten what I_told you about Michael 
Senior ? " 

" How should I forget ? It was a beautiful tale ! " 

" He waa a great, very great, man, but Todroa killed 
him. Had he lived he would have done great things for 
the Jews. I will ask him what he wanted to do ; he will 
teach me, and I shall do it." 

Freida's face looked scared and pale. 

"How can you, ask him ? He died long ago." 

A mysterious smile played upon the Israelite's sensitive 
mouth. 

" I know how ; sometimes the Txird lets those apeak 
who died long ago ; they can speak and teach their grand- 
sons. Freida," he said after a while, "do you know 
what Michael Senior did when he fell powerless and knew 
he would die before better times arrived ?" 

" No ; what did he do ? " 

" He shut himself up in his room, alone, without food, 
drink, or sleep, and wrote night and day. What did he 



PROLOGUE. 19 

write ? Nobody knows, because he concealed his writings 
carefully, and when he knew his end to be near he called 
his sous and said to them : 

" I have written down all I knew and felt and thought 
of doing ; but the papers are hidden, because the time has 
not come to make use of them. The reign of the Todros 
will last a long time, and their influence will be so strong 
that, if either you or your children found the writings, 
they would anathematize Michael Senior as a kaf rim (her- 
etic) and curse him as they did the second Moses. But a 
time will come when a descendant of mine will want the 
citings to show him the way of delivering his people out 
of the bondage of ignorance and bring them into the light 
of the sun which shines for other nations. This descend- 
^^t of mine will find what he wants in my writings, and 
you, my sons, tell your children on your dying bed about 
^he papers. This is my will. Eemember, and listen to 
^im whose soul has striven and worked for immortality.'^ 
(One of the doctrines of Moses Maimonides was that the 
soul works out its own immortality by striving after the 
highest good. The punishment for a bad life was to be 
annihilation.) 

Hersz had finished. Freida sat motionless, her eyes fixed 
vonderingly upon her husband. 

'*And will you search for those papers ?" she whispered. 

" I will search for them,'' repeated the husband, " for I 
am the descendant of whom Michael Senior spoke. I will 
find those papers, and you, Freida, shall help me." 

The woman drew herself up, radiant with happiness. 

*' You are good, Hersz," she exclaimed out of the ful- 



I 



I 



I 



20 PROLOGUE. 

iieaa of her heart, "to let me, a womau, share in your 

great thoughts and undertakmgs." 

"And why should you not share in them ? Do you not 
guard my house well and bring np my children right- 
eously ? You do everything well, Freida, and your soul is 
as beautiful aa your eyes." 

A deep blush spread over the woman's face, her eyes 
dropped, and a soft murmur, either of love or gratitude, 
passed her lips. 

Hersz rose. ■ 

"Where shall we look for the papers ?" he said, mus- 
ingly. 

" Where ? " echoed the woman, 

"J'reida," said the husband, "Michael Senior would 
not have hidden them in the earth ; he would know that 
worms and dampness must destroy them. Do you think 
they are buried ? " 

" No," said the woman, " they cannot be buried." 

" He would not hide them in the walls, since walls do 
not last forever, but are pulled down or restored. I have 
built these myself, and nothing was found in the old ones. 
They could not be in the roof, as it is often renewed. 
When I was bom in the old house it had had a new roof 
put ou, and nothing was found there," 

" Where can they be ?" whispered Freida. 

Both remained silent, thinking deeply. Suddenly 
Preida exclaimed : 

" Heraz, I know ; the papers are there," and with her 
forefinger she pointed to a glazed bookcase full of old 
rohimos which occupied one coraeT oi I'We toom. 

.1^ J 



PROLOGUE. 21 

"There ?" asked Hersz, with doubtful voice. 

"There," firmly repeated the wife. ''Did you not 
tell me that those books belonged to Michael Senior, 
and that they are kept as a relic, and which nobody 
ever touches, as Rabbi Todros forbids reading such 
books." 

Hersz passed his hand over his brow, and the wife con- 
tinued : 

" Michael Senior was a wise man and read the future. 
He knew the books would be safe ; nobody would search 
for the papers there but that descendant who was in need 
of them." 

"Preida! Freida!" exclaimed Hersz, "you are a wise 
woman." 

The black eyes again veiled themselves modestly. 

" Hersz, I will go now to the children and rock the baby, 
who is crying, to sleep. I will give out the work for the 
servants and make them rake out the fire, then I shall 
come and help you at your work." 

"Yes, come," said Hersz, and when the wife had crossed 
the door into the room, whence children's voices were 
audible, he looked after her and murmured softly, — 

" Who can find a virtuous woman, for her price is far 
above rubies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust 
in her." 

After a short time she came back, bolted the door, and 
asked in a whisper, — 

" Where is the key ? " 

Hersz found the key, opened the old bookeaa^, ^xiftL^Itv^tL 
both began lifting down the heavy volumes aivd ^^^^Wi^xo. 



PROLOGUE. 



H 22 

^B upon the floor. One by one they turned the yellow, age- 
^1 Btaiatid pages which had not heen touched for two hundred 
^V years. The dust rose in clouds and settled on Freidas 
H white tnrhaii and Hersz's golden hair. Both worked un- 
^B remittingly. The expression of their faces was solemn as if 
H about to open the tomb of their ancestor to searcii for tho 
H thoughts buried with him. 

^ The day was already on the wane, when a shout burst 

from Hersz's lips, a shout that proclaims victorj'. 

Freida said nothing, but raised her folded hands in silent 
thanksgiving. 

Afterwards Hersz remained a long time at the window, 
looking towards the sky, where the stars appeared one by 
one, and prayed long and earnestly. The light remained 
burning all the night, and with liis head resting on both 
arms, Herez was intent upon a voluminous yellow manu- 
script. When the first light began to dawn in the east, he 
stood ready equipped for a journey in the porch of hia 
house. He was eo absorbed that he saw neither hia chil- 
dren nor his servants, only nodded to Freida. who stood at 
the open door, jumped into a cart full of straw, and drove 
away. Freida's eyes, mournful and proud at the same time, 
followed the departing husband. 

" Where did Hersz go ? " He went beyond hills, forests, 
rivers — far, far away, where, in the midst of tJie forests 
and bogs of Pink, lived the champion of Jewish eman- 
cipation, the deputy Butrymovitoh, a nobleman of ancient 
lineage, and a thinker. Ho was one of those who saw far 
and clear into the future, grasped the situation and the 
importance of strong and close alliances and wise laws. 



^ 



PROLOGUE. 28 

When Herez was ushered into the nobleman's house and 
fitood face to face with the great deputy, he bowed very 
low and began slowly and earnestly, — 

" I am ITeraz Ezofovitcii, a merchant from Szyhow, and - 

descendant of Michael Ezofovitch, who was Elder over t!ie 

Jewish nation, called Senior by the order of the king. I 

have come from a far-away country. And why did I come ? 

, I came to see the great deputy, to speak with the great 

I writer, whose words fell upon my eyes as the rays of the 

' Bun. The light, though dazzling, did not blind my eyes ; 

but like the plant which climbs round the mighty oak, 

my ehoughts climbed up and twined around your great 

thoughta, so that both should grow and spread over the 

I world and there should be no more dissensions and no 

[ more darknees." 

The deputy replied in a few courteons words. 
Hersz went on. 

" The illustrious deputy said there was to be everlasting 
peaee between the two nations, who, of the same country, 
yet do not hold to each other ? " 

"Yea, I said it," affirmed the deputy. 
"The illustrious Pan said if the Jew had the same rights 
B the Christian in everything, he would do no harm any 
' more ? " 

"Yes, I said it." 

"The illnstrious Pan also said if the Jew became a 

I Polish citizen he would have to send his children to national 

schools, abolish certain customs and superstitions that are 

[ neither good nor useful, and that he would have the right 

I to acquire landed property ?" 



I'liOLOGUE. 

' Yes, I said all that." 
Presently the tall Jew with the proud forehead and i 



^ 



H telligent eye bent down suddenly, and before the depnty 
H had time to see or to prevent it, touched his hand with 
W his lips. 

"I am a stranger," lie said softly, "a guest in this 
country — a younger brother." 

Then he straightened himself, and putting his hand 
into his satin garment, drew forth a roll of yellow papers. 

"I brought that to you which is more precious to me 
than gold or precious atones." 

" What is it ? " asked the deputy, 

" It is the last will of my ancestor, Michael Ezof oviteh. " 

During the whole night, by the light of burning wax- 
candles, sat these two and read. When they left off read- 
ing they talked, with heads close together, their faces 
glowing. 

When the day began to dnwn, both rose from their seats 
and their hands met in a silent, vigorous grasp. AVhat 
they read and what they spoke about, what feelings of 
hope and enthusiasm were sealed with that silent grasp, 
nobody ever knew. They were buried in darkness with 
other historical mysteries, together with our brightest 
hopes and aspirations. Misfortune has driven thom there, 
they are hidden but not lost. 

The next morning a carriage drawn by six horses stood 
before the nobleman's house. The deputy and his guest, 
the Israelite, mounted and drove toward the capital. 

After several montlis, Hersz returned from Warsaw to 
m his native town. He was busy, very busy, there ; lie talked. 



\ 



PBOLOGUE. 26 

explained, retailed news, brought partisans over to liisside, 
and prepared the people for great changes. Then he went 
away again and came back. This lasted for several years. 

One day Hersz came back from liis travels, changed 
almost beyond recognition ; the proud forehead furrowed 
with grief or care, the eyes sunken and lustreless. He 
entered his house and threw himself down sighing. Freida 
stood before him, sadly disturbed, but quietly waiting, 
waiting until her husband should speak. At last he raised 
liis dim eyes to her, and said, — 

" Everything is lost ! '' 

''Why lost ? " murmured Freida. 

Hersz spread out his hands to indicate something great 
was lost. 

" If a building breaks asunder, beams fall upon the heads 
of the lookers on and dust blinds their eyes. A great 
building is gone to pieces, and the spars and beams are 
falling and crushing our hopes and our work, and the 
<^Q8t has covered them for a long time. We must hide 
the writings of the Senior again, Freida, they are of no use 
^ow ; perhaps a great grandson will look for them when 
the time comes for better things." 

Prom that day forth Hersz begun suddenly to grow old. 
He sat for hours on the bench, swaying his body to and fro, 
sighing and repeating, — 

*' Assybe ! assybe ! daide I " (Woe ! woe ! misfortune !) 

J'or ever near the sad man was the slender woman in the 
white turban ; the black eyes were often full of tears, and 
her step so gentle that not even the pearl round her throat 
Jostled and betrayed her presence. His sadness saddened 



r 
I 




I 



26 PROLOGUE. 

but also puzzled her. What ailed him ? His children ' 
were well and hearty, hia wealth had not diminished, 
everything was as it had been the day before he quarreled 
with Keb Nochim. The good and loving wife whose 
whole world was within her four walls, could not under- 
stand that the spirit of her husband had been carried off 
into the world of great ideiis, and that when driven out 
from hia Eden by the force of inimical circumstances, he 
could not get the better of hia sorrow and the yearning 
after it. She did not know that in this world there are 
other losses to be wept over than the mere loss of earthly 
possessions ; and human sorrows for which time even has 
no balm. 

Around the black hut of Nochim Todroa, shouts of joy 
resounded. 

" Joy ! joy ' joy ' " shouted the old rabbi, after he had 
heard that everything was lost ; that those who wanted to 
change their laws had no longer the power to enforce their 
ideas. 

" Joy ! joy ! joy ! Safe are our beards and long gaber- 
dines; safe the Cabala, herem and koscher meats ; safe the 
holy books of Mischna, Gemara, and Zohar from Edomite 
contamination ; no tilling of the soil for the chosen people ; 
Israel is saved from destruction," 

Todros rejoiced, and called npon all who believed in his 
wisdom and sanctity to rejoice with him. 

He had triumphed over Hersz. but that was not sufficient. 
The axe must be laid to the very root of the tree which at 
some time or other might bring forth fresh branches and 
destroy the holy work of Todroa. 



PROLOGUE. 27 

As accusations were brought against Michael Senior 
centuries ago, so they were brought now against his de- 
scendant. He was publicly denounced in the synagogue 
as a Sabbath-breaker, a friend of the Edomite ; accused of 
eating unclean meat and seeking justice at alien courts in 
preference to submitting to their own laws ; of disrespect 
to the elders of the Cabala, and want of reverence to Reb 
Nochim Todros. 

Hersz defended himself proudly, denied some of the ac- 
cusations, admitted others, justifying himself upon grounds 
which neither the people nor the elders would acknowledge. 
This lasted a long time ; but gradually the persecutions 
grew less and almost died away, for their victim retired 
from public life altogether. He shut himself up into his 
own house, and only devoted himself to business, which did 
not prosper either, as he did not possess any longer the 
confidence and sympathy of his brethren. What he suf- 
fered and endured in these last years of his life, nobody 
knows, as he did not make confidences. Before his death 
te spoke long and trustingly to Freida. The children 
were too young to be intrusted with the secret of his life, 
his broken hopes, and hidden sorrows. He left his message 
for them with his wife. But did Freida understand the 
words of her dying husband ? was she capable and willing 
*o repeat them to the children ? who knows ? This only 

• 

18 Certain, she was the only recipient of his secret and alone 
k^6w about Michael Senior's legacy, not only to his 
children, but to the people of Israel, far more valuable 
than all the treasures in their strong box^^ ^.xA ^^x^- 




28 pnoLnnUE. 

After the death of Hersz there remained nobody in the 
town who had any thoughts beyond his own family or the 
accttmulation of riches. Their religion was a dark, ou- 
reasoaing fanaticiBm, blind obedience to the letter whence 
the spirit had ded, and a suspicious reserve against every- 
thing which came from the hroad, enlightened, bnt to them 
alien, world. 



I 




PART L 



CHAPTER I. 

It was three years ago. 

A wet mist hung over the muddy streets of the little 
town, obscuring the evening sky. The fresh March wind, 
Ml of the scent of newly ploughed fields, which swept the 
streets, was powerless against the heavy vapors and stifling 
air which clung in volumes round the doors and windows 
of the houses. 

The town, in spite of mist and smells, seemed gay and 
festive. All the windows shone with lights, and sounds of 
^oud conversation and choral prayers were audible. Any 
passer-by would see through the windows bright family 
^oups. Women in festive caps and dresses were carrying 
Wishes, arranging the table, and surveying the whole with 
pleased countenances. Bearded men were carrying little 
^Wldren in their arms, caressing their dimpled cheeks or 
throwing them up to the ceiling, to the joy of old and 
young. Others sat on benches along the wall, conversing ; 
some, again, covered with the soft white draperies of their 
^Uith (stall), stood turned to the wall to prepare in prayer 
^or the hour of Sabbath. 



)0 MIER EZOFOVITCH. 

For it was Friday evening. 

There was only one place in the town where darkness 
reigned, darkness and dead silence. It was a small gray hut, 
almost sunk into the ground, nestling against a hill which 
was the only bit of uneven ground in the midst of a vast 
plain. It was not nature's work either. Tradition said it 
had been raised by the hands of the Karaites to build their 
Temple npoii. There is no trace now of the heretic 
Tample, and the hill serves only as a shelter from wind 
and snow to the little hct at its side, A wild pear-tree 
grows on the incline of the hill, and the wind aigha gently 
in the bare branches. 

Long stretcliea of ploughed fields lie between the hut 
and the town, whence the wind brings along the sounds, 
and long streaks of vapor which crawl in the newly 
ploughed furrows. Two small windows made of bits of 
irregular glass give light to the hut in the daytime ; now, 
everything is dark ; but from the depth of the darkness 
within comes the quavering voice of an old man, — 

"Beyond the far aeas, beyond towering mountains," 
said the voice in the darkness, " flows the river Sabbathion, 
It flows not with water, or milk, or honey, but with yellow 
gravel and great atones." 

The tremulous voice stopped, and amidst the silence 
another voice, a girlish or childish one, resounded, — 

"Zeide ! (grandfather) go on." 

" Do you hear any one coming ? " asked the zeide. 

" No, I do not hear anything," answered the young 
voice. 

Presently the quavering voice resumed, — 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 31 

"Across the holy river Sabbathion live the four tribes of 
Israel : Gad^ A^sur^ Dan^ and Naphtali. These tribes fled 
from terror and great oppression, and Jehovah, blessed be 
his holy name, hid them from their enemies on the other 
side of the river that flows with yellow gravel and great 
stones. And the gravel rises like the waves of the ocean, 
and the stones roar like the hurricane in a mighty forest. 
And when the day of the Sabbath approaches '' 

The quavering voice stopped again and whispered, — 

"Are they coming ? " 

Per a little while there was no answer, it seemed as if 
the other invisible being within was listening intently. 

"Yes, they are coming,'* she said at last. 

From the dark interior a hollow moan was audible. 

" Zeide, go on," said the same girlish voice, but more 
determined. 

But her zeide remained silent. 

Prom the direction of the town a strange noise ap- 
proached and grew louder and louder every minute. It 
came from the throats of some fifty boys, who looked like 
so many black dots upon the dusky landscape. Presently, 
^th yells of laughter and derision, they surrounded the 
hut, rattled at the door and windows so that the little tene- 
ineut shook on its foundations. 

They were children, boys of different ages. Their dress 
^as scarcely visible in the darkness, but from under their 
little caps, their hair fluttered in the wind and their eyes 
sparkled with excitement and maybe fanaticism. 

**6ood evening, Karaim \" they shouted with one voice, 
hands and feet hammering at door and window. 




MEIR EZOFOVlTCn. 

"Why do you not bum lights on the holy Sabbath 
Why do you sit like the devil, in darkness ? heretic ! blas- 
phemer," shouted the elder boys. 

■' Aleidyk ! madman I wretch ! beggar," shouted lustily 
the little ones. 

The abusive laughter and rattling became louder and 
louder, but above the noise rose the clear, resonant voice, — 

"Zeide ! go ou with the story." 

"Ai! ai ! ai ! " moaned the trembling voice, "how 
;an I speak whilst they shout and shout and abuse?" 

"Zeide ! go on with the story." 

The girl's voice sounded stern, almost commanding ; there 
vas pain and scorn in it, and an evident efEort to make it 
steady. 

Like a sad melody amidst the raging elements rose the 
tremulous tones of the old man, — 

" When the holy Sabbath comes near, Jehovah, blessed 
be his name, bids the river to rest. The gravel does not 
rise in high waves and the stones do not roar like the 
hurricane in the forest ; but there rises instead a dense 
mist, which hides from their ememies the four tribes of 
Israel : Gad, Assur, Dan, and Naphtali," 

Alas! near the little gray hut no river Sabbathion was 
flowing, to screen it with its waves, nor was there any mist 
to render it invisible to its foes. 

The foes were small, but numerous. 

With a last efEort of mischievous malice, the stronger 
ones had managed to wrench the window assander and the 
small panes fell clinking on the gi'ound, A shont of tri- 
umph proclaimed their victory. Presently bits of soil and 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 33 

small stones came flying in. The quavering voice sounded 
hoarser and further off, — 

"Ail ail ai! Jehovah !^^ 

"Ziede, hush ! Zeide, do not cry out; Zeide, have no 
fear!'' 

Suddenly, amidst the tumult of the small savages who 
clung to door and windows, a commanding voice called 
out,— 

"Quiet, boys ! what are you doing here ? off with you 
at once." 

There was a sudden hush, and the children scurried back, 
and huddled close together. 

The man, whose resonant voice had caused the hush 
was tall and graceful, dressed in a long coat trimmed with 
costly fur. His face looked pale in the dusk, but the eyes 
tad the brilliancy of a young man. 

"What are you doing here ?" he repeated in the same 
angry voice. *^ Are there wolves in that dwelling, that you 
stout and yell around it ? " 

The boys remained silent and pressed closely to- 
gether. Presently one of them, the tallest and boldest, 
snarled,— 

^' And why do they not light their candles on the Sab- 
bath ?'' 

^^ What is that to you, pray ? " asked the young man. 

"It is nothing to you either !" retorted the bold youth, 
**we come here every week and do the same ; it's no con- 
<5em of yours." 

" I know you come every week, and that's why I watched 

W order to catch you in the act, and now off with yon." 
3 



I 



84 WEIR EZOFOVITCn. 

' Go home yourself, Meir ; your Bobe (great-grand- 
mother), and Zeide have begun supper without you ; why 
drive us awayj when you do not obaerve the Sabbath 
jonrself ?" 

The eyes of the young man flared with anger, he stamped 
hia foot and shouted to the children, who scattered in all 
directions — all but the oldest boy, who, in spite of anger 
and remonstrances, still went on throwing bits of soil 
through the window. But a powerful hand grasped him. 
■' Come ! " said tho young man. " I shall take you home 
myself ! " The boy yelled and wriggled, but tho hand held 
him like a vice and a quiet voice bade him stop that noise. 
The boy hung his head and submitted sulkily. It was now 
very quiet about the cottage, nothing interrupted the still- 
ness but the hoarse, deep sighs from the dark interior, and 
from the shattered window sounded the gentle voice of the 
girl.— 

"Thank joii." 

"Peace be with you," answered the young man, and 
passed on, carrying with him the youthful offender. They 
crossed the fields and several streets in silence, and entered 
into one of the houses on the market-place. 

It was a long, low building with a covered yard, and the 
wide entrance showed at once that it was an inn. The 
row of windows belonging to the guest's room were in 
darkness. Those on the other side of the house glimmered 
with the Sabbath lights. Heaps of litter and refuse 
reached almost up to the low window silis. The inn was 
the property of Jankeil Kamionker, a man of high stand- 
ing in the Cahala (congregation), and much respected in the 



MEJB EZOFOVITCB. 



Efor his great learning, piety, and not leas for the 
Tement of his busineaa. The young man lead- 
ing the hoy, who did not aeem to mind it at all, picked hia 
steps carefully over the heaps of litter in the darkness, 
crossed the entrance, ascended some rickety steps, opened 
a door and pushed the culprit inside. Having done this 
he did not go away at once, but putting hia head into the 
half-opened door he called out, "Keb Jankeil, I brought 
home your son Mendel ; punish him with a fatherly 
hand. He roams about in the dark, and assaults innocent 
people." 

There was no answer, but from the interior of the room 
came the continual murmur of a man engaged in prayer. 
A large room was visible, with dirty walla and a big stove 
black with dust and soot. There was a table covered with 
a linen cloth of doubtful cleanliness. The Sabbath feast 
had not begun, but the seven candles were lit already, and 
sonnds of clattering dishes and cliildren's voices sotmded 
from a distance. There was nobody in the room hut a 
middle-sized man of thin and flexible limbs. To say he 
stood against the wall would be scarcely appropriate, as he 
did not stand, but swayed in continual motion. He threw 
his body backwards and forwards so that the soft drapery of 
his tallith flapped about like huge wings, and the philac- 
terin on head and wrist danced about, and the red beard 
whipped his face and shoulders. These violent jerks were 
accompanied by a low murmur, which grew louder and 
louder till it rose sometimes to a shriek or ended with a 
wail or a song. 
^H The yonng man standing at the door looked at the fi 



A 



36 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

praying with all his soul, or rather, body, for a long time. 
He evidently waited for a pause. But it was generally 
known that whoso waited for the end of Eeb JankieFs pray- 
ers had to wait very long. The young man was not very 
patient, or perhaps felt too indignant with young MendeFs 
offence. 

'' Eeb Jankiel,^' he called out, after a while, "your son 
roams about at night and attacks innocent people. *' 

No answer. 

" Eeb Jankiel, your son insults poor people with op- 
probrious words. ^^ 

Eeb Jankiel went on praying with unabated fervor. 

" Eeb Jankiel, your son breaks poor people^s poor little 
windows at night. ^^ 

Eeb Jankiel turned over the leaves of the book he was 
holding, and in a triumphant, half-singing, half-reciting, 
voice broke forth, — 

" Praise ye the Lord. Sing unto the Lord a new song 
and his praise in the congregation of saints. ^^ 

Upon this the door was shut, and the young man swiftly 
descended the steps and carefully threaded his way along 
the heaps of rubbish. When he arrived at the last of the 
lighted windows, he paused for a minute and listened to 
some one singing within. It was a young man^s voice, full 
of sadness, but exquisitely clear and flexible. 

*^ Eliezer \" he called out softly. 

The window was the cleanest in the whole house, and re- 
vealed the interior of a tiny room with no other furniture 
than a narrow bed, a table, chair, and a bookcase full of 
books. A young man of about twenty, with a pale and 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 87 

refined face, was standing near the table lit up by a single 
tallow-candle. The only touch of color in the pallid face 
were the red lips, slightly opened, whence issued the sweet 
sounds which would cast a spell and arrest the steps of any 
passer-by. No wonder that, with such a voice, Eliezer, 
the son of Jankiel, was the cantor of the community, the 
singer of the people before Jehovah. 

" Eliezer ! " repeated the voice under the window en- 
treatingly. The singer must have heard it, for he raised 
his sad, dreamy eyes, and looked towards its direction, but 
he did not interrupt his song. On the contrary, raising 
hoth his hands in rapt fervor, his voice became more 
voluminous. 

"Why standest Thou afar off, Lord. Thy people are 
brought even to the gates of death ! 

" Save us, Jehovah ! ^^ 

The young man under the window did not call out again 
to the singer who prayed for his people, but walked softly 
away in the direction of k house whose windows were 
hrilliantly lighted. He paused a minute before entering 
the house, looked through the mist at the few visible stars ; 
lost in dreamy thoughts, he sang softly after his friend 
Eliezer, — 

"Save us, oh save us, Jehovah I^' 



MEia EZOFOVITCH. 



CHAPTER II. 



1 



The great, brilliantly lighted house which stood oppo- 1 
site the synagogue, separated from it by the whole width of I 
the square, was the same which Hersz had bnilt for him- ; 
self and his beautiful wife Freida. Nearly a hundred 
years of rain and dust liad stained and blackened the walls, [ 
but it was still the most prominent house in the town, j 
An hour ago the large table had been prepared, and al- 
ready the ceremonies of meeting the holy day of Sabbath J 
had begun. Amongst the large gathering of some forty > 
people rose the head of the house, Saul Ezofovitch, the son \ 
of Hersz, who approached the table, above which hung two J 
seven-brauched chandeliers of massive silver. The old ■ 
man, whose slightly bent, but still powerful figure and * 
snow-white beard pointed to his age of fourscore and some , 
years, took the hand of his eldest son, also a grayliaired 
man, and with the other raised a long staff with a lighted , 
taper at the end towards the chandeliers, and in a sonorous ' 
Toice called out, — I 

"Arise, shine, for thy light is come, and the glory of . 
the Lord is risen upon thee ! " 

Scarcely had he finished when all the lights blazed forth, , 
and from all the throats burst tlie cry, — [ 

"Arise, shine, for thy light is come, j 

"Shake thyself from the dust. Put on thy beautiful ; 
garments to meet the holy day of Sabbath." 



J 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 39 

Long murmurs of prayer and songs followed one 
upon another^ and re-echoed in the dark and empty 
square. 

The young man outside heard it and hastened his 
steps. 

He crossed the porch, entered the long passage which 
divided the house in two and approached the door, whence 
long streaks of light issued and a noisy conversation had 
already taken the place of prayers and singing. 

The gathering consisted of a great variety of people and 
faces. The two sons of Saul, Abram and Kafael, men 
both well on in years, with gray beards and earnest faces, 
Saul's son-in-law, Ber, light-haired, pale, and languid of ex- 
pression ; daughters, daughters-in-law and granddaugh- 
ters ; women with full figures, carefully arranged wigs 
and high caps ; young girls with long, shining tresses and 
eyes full of life and brightness ; some young men related 
to the family, and children of all ages and sizes, all these 
sat around the festive table. At the head of the table sat 
old Saul and looked at the door leading to the further 
rooms with an air of expectancy. Presently the door 
opened and two women appeared ; one of them was per- 
fectly dazzling with splendor. She was an old, very old 
woman, but still erect and strong-looking. She wore a 
bright-colored turban upon her head, fastened in front 
with a diamond brooch. A necklace of pearls nestled on 
the withered throat and descended upon the soft draperies 
of a white apron which covered the rich brocade dress. 
Long pendants with diamonds too heavy for the ears were 
fastened and held back with strings, to the turban ; she 




40 MEin EZOFOVITCII. 

wore a profusion of rubies, emeralds, and diamonds every' 
where about her, which threw out a dazzling light. Only I 
at Eastern courts such a display of costly jewels would be ' 
met with, or upon the shrines of holy relics. TJiis Israel- I 
itish centenarian was decked out in all the richest things 
the house possessed ; she was evidently, for those as- ; 
sembled people, the holy shrine which they honored. Led j 
by one of her great-granddaughters, a pretty girl with i 
dark complexion and raven hair, she stood in the door and I 
looked slowly around the room. All the faces were smil- 
ing, and there was a general murmur, — 

'• Bobe ! Elte Bobe ! " (grandmother ! great-grand 
mother ! ) 

The far greater number murmured the last name ; there 
was only one, the head of the family who said softly, — 

" Mame ! " Mother ! • 

Very sweet that name sounded from Saul's withered lipa i 
and the wrinkled brow, covered with a black, velvet cap, 1 
seemed to smooth itself out and grow younger. 

What had become of the lithe figure and brilliant eyes 
of Freida, the quiet, industrious, and wise helpmate of ' 
Hersz Ezofovitch ? All that was gone, gone long ago as 
was also her lord and husband. Her once slender propor- 
tions had broadened out like a mighty stem which has 
produced many strong and fruitfiil branches. Her face 
was a perfect network of wrinkles, and her eyes looked ' 
small and faded from under the heavy, yellow eyelids. 
But upon that face touched and effaced by the hand of 
time there rested an expression of peace and perfect happi- 
ness. The thin lips which smiled upon the gathering 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 41 

opened now but very rarely to utter even the shortest sen- 
tence. 

Her arms, covered with full white sleeves, rested upon 
the shoulder of the young girl ; her eyes, shrinking from 
the glare of light, travelled slowly along the table, and at 
last in a loud whisper she asked, — 
" Where is Meir ? " 
The great-grandmother had spoken. 
All the heads moved, like trees in a sudden breeze. 
Men and women turned to each other and the whisper 
went round, — 
^'WhereisMeir?^^ 

Amongst so many, the non-appearance of one had passed 
unnoticed. 

Old Saul did not repeat the question, but the furrows on 
his forehead deepened, the eyes grew sterner and with 
^nger in his face he looked at the entrance door. 

It opened presently and a young man of slender build, 
Pressed in a long, tight-fitting coat trimmed with fur, 
^^tered, shut the door behind him, and stood a few seconds 
^^i*esolutely, as if shy or ashamed. He perceived himself 
^^te ; prayers were over and his grandfather Saul, his two 
^^cles and some of the elder women were looking at him 
^ith questioning and displeased eyes. 

Only the faded eyes of the great-grandmother did not 

sliow either anger or displeasure. On the contrary, they 

seemed to open wider, and there was a joyful light in 

^Qm. The heavy eyelids trembled, the thin lips parted, 

^^d as before she said, in a tuneless whisper, — 

"Einklchen! Kleiniskind ! (Grandson! little child !) '' 



n 



42 MEIR BZOFOVITCH. 

At the BOEnd of the voit;e, full of tendernesa and pleas- 
ure, Saul who was just opening his mouth to question and 
rebuke hia grandaon bent his bead, so did his uncles. The 
late comer was received in silence, interrupted only by the 
great-grandmother who repeated, — 

"Kleiniskind !" . 

Saul spread his hands over the table. | 

"Blessed be the Lord," he began. 

"Blessed be the Lord," spread the murmur, and all 
stood up for a few minutes to pronounce the blessing over 
meat and drink. 

The yoinig man did not join the family circle, but retired 
to the depth of the room to say the prescribed prayers for 
the Sabbath. He did not indulge in any violent jerks, aa 
customary with moat Of hia people, but remained perfectly 
motionless, his bauds crossed upon his breast, and his eyes 
fixed upon the window and the dark night beyond. 

He had a gentle, oval face, pale with the pallor of a 
passionate nervous organization. His fair hair with a 
golden eheen upon it, fell upon his forehead from under 
which a pair of gray, deepset eyes betrayed a feverish reat- 
lesaneBS. The thin aenaitive lips had a very tender expres- 
sion. A thick golden down adorned his upper lip, aad 
showed his age to be about twenty, therefore, reaching 
that stage of life in which, according to the law, he waa ■ 
obliged to become head of a family himself and look after 
hia own affaira. When the young man had finished his 
prayers, and approached the table to take his usual place, a 
hoarse voice from amidst the assembly called out, — 

" Where have you been all this time, Mcir? AVhat were 



MEIR EZOFO VITCH. 43 

you doing in town, when the Sabbath had begun and 
nobody ought to be doing anything? Why were you not 
present at prayers, and why are your eyes sad and your 
face pale on a Sabbath when everybody in heaven and upon 
earth are rejoicing ? '^ 

The man who uttered this speech in a hoarse, drawling 
voice was very singular looking. His head, far too big for 
his thin and dried-up body, was covered with a mass of 
niatted hair, which, like his long beard, had scarcely ever 
known the comb. Still more singular was his dress, which 
consisted of a long shirt of rough sackcloth which fell upon 
his bare feet and was tied across the waist with a hempen 
rope. 

Who was the man in the garb of an ascetic, with the 
gleaming eyes of a fanatic and the expression of a mystic, 
intoxicated with religious fervor ? 

It was Eeb Mosze, the melamed or teacher, a supremely 
pious man. Winter and summer he wore the same sack- 
cloth and lived like the birds upon anything he could pick 
up, the right hand of the Eabbi Isaac Todros, and after 
the rabbi the greatest object of veneration in the commu- 
nity. Meir Ezofovitch the grandson of Saul and great 
grandson of Hersz, did not sit down, but stood erect, 
and with downcast eyes and evident timidity replied to the 
melamed^s question. 

" Rebe ! I have not been where is either gladness or work 
going on. I have been where it is dark, and where people 
sit in darkness and weep.'^ 

"Who can be sad to day and sit in the dark on the holy 
% of the Sabbath ! '^ exclaimed the melamed. 



44 MEIIC EZOFOVlTCir. 

Some of tlie older membere raised tlieir heads aud re- 
peated, — 

" Who can ait in the dark ?" 

And then again they all aaked, — .,. 

" Where have you been, Meir ? " i 

Meir did not answer at once. His face and downcast 
eyes expressed timidity and hesitation. 

Presently one of the young girls, who sat at the lower 
end of the table, the same who had supported the great 
grandmother, clapped her hands and her eyes danced with , 
merriment. T 

" I know where it is dark, to-day." I 

All the eyes turned in her direction. f 

" Where ? " they asked, 

Brought into prominence, pretty Lia blushed furiously 
and said in a qnieter voice, — 

" In Abel Karaim's hut, at tlie foot of the Karaite hill, 
Meir, have you been at the Karaim's ?" 

Amongst the many voices, the melamed's harsh tones 
dominated. 

The yonng man's timidity seemed to vanish under the 
more dominant feeling of irritation. 

" I have not been in their dweOing, but saved them from 
a great misfortune ? " he said, in a somewhat louder voice. 

" From a great misfortune ; and from what misfortune 
pray ? " said the melamed, in a mocking tone. 

This time Meir raised his eyes and looked straight into , 
the melamed's face. 

" Reb Mosze ! " he said " you ask who assaulted them ? ^ 
Your scholars did, they do it every Friday night ; and why 



id why ] 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 45 

should they not do this thing ? since they know — '^ He 
hesitated^ his eyes fell again. Fear and angry feelings 
were warring against each other. 

"Well, what do they know ? Why do you not finish 
your sentence, Meir ? What do they know ? " mocked the 
nielamed. 

*'They know that you, Eeb Mosze, praise them for it.^'< 

Reb Mosze half raised himself on his seat, his eyes 
gleamed maliciously and he was about to speak but the 
young man did not let him, his own voice rang out with- 
out hesitation, — 

"Reb Mosze, '^ he said, bending his head slightly, "I 
respect you as my teacher, and I do not ask why you allow 
your scholars to assault poor people under cover of the 
night ; but I cannot look at their wrongdoing without 
feeling it deeply, because bad children will grow up bad 
men ; if now they damage a poor man's hut and throw 
stones at him, they will in time burn down houses and 
kill people. They would have pulled the hut down and 
maybe killed the poor people, but I came in time and 
saved them/* 

Saying this, Meir sat down on his seat. There was 
neither fear nor timidity in his face now. He felt that 
justice was on his side and he looked fearlessly around. 
At this moment old Saul and his sons raised their hand, 
and in one voice exclaimed, — 

"Sabbath!** 

Their voices were solemn, their eyes stern, almost angry. 

" Sabbath ! Sabbath ! ** shouted the melamed, throwing 
his arms wildly about him. '' You, Meir, instead of saying 



I 



46 MEIH EZQFOVITCn. 

the Kidees (prayer), and tilling your heart with joy : instead 
of offering your spirit unto the Angel Matatron who pleads 
for the tribes of Israel before the Lord ; the angel Matatron 
would give it unto Sar-ha-Oloma, the angel above angels, 
through him to tiie Sephiroth, the forces that created 
the world, to be brought at last before Ensoph the Infi- 
nite ; insteatl of all this you go and defend people from 
some danger and watch over their house and lives. Meir I 
Meir ! you have broken the Sabbath, and will have to 
confess yourself a sinner and lawbreaker before the publio 
in the synagogue." 

The speech of the raelamed made a deep impression 
upon all present. Saul and his sons looked stern, the 
women amazed and frightened, Lia who had betrayed her 
cousin had tears in her eyes. Only Ber, Saul's son-in-law, 
betrayed different feelings, his face wore a kindly, sym- 
pathetic expression ; the young men looked steadily at 
Meir, but with friendly feelings. 

Meir answered, in a tremulous voice, — 

"Jehovah bids us to keep the Sabbath holy in the 
Mischna and Tora, but also says it ho lawful for twenty 
people to break it in order to save one from danger," 

The very act of answering the pions melamed, right hand 
of Rabbi Todros, was an unheard-of thing, and to contra- 
dict him, sheer blasphemy. 

The narrow eyes of the teacher burst nearly oat of their 
sockets with rage. 

"The Karaims," he yelled, pulling his matted hair, "are 
an accursed race. Why should you stand up for them ? 
Why do they not light their candles on the Subbath ? Why 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 47 

do they sit in darkness ? Why do they cut the throats of 
birds and animals which serve for food on the top of the 
neck, instead of underneath ? Why do they not know the 
ioly books of Mischna, Gemara and Zohar ? ^' 
He spluttered and almost choked with fury. 
The voice of Meir sounded quiet and gentle. 
^^ Kebe ! they are very poor.^' 
'^Ensoph is the avenger and without pity.^' 
" They suffer much from people's persecution.^' 
"It is the Almighty who persecutes them.'' 
" The Almighty does not command as to persecute, not 
even, as Eabbi Huna, says, if the persecutor be a just man 
and the persecuted a rogue. The Eternal protects and 
shields the helpless ones." 

Reb Mosze's flashing eyes were riveted upon the young 

man's face, and his whole body shook in half -expressed rage. 

The whole gathering were lost in wonder, horror, and 

amazement. Saul, from under his bushy eyebrows, darted 

ft threatening look at his grandson and hissed out, — 

'' Hush ! " 

Meir bent his head, as a sign of submission, and Saul's 
®oxi8, in order to appease Eeb Mosze, asked him in what 
Consisted the difference of the Talmud and Zohar and the 
CJa.bala ; and whether one ought to study the first or the 
'^«t, in order to attain the highest standard of piety. 

The melamed spread his arms upon the table, fixed his 
^yes upon the opposite wall, and began in his drawling 
Voice,— 

" Simon ben (son of) Tochai, the great rabbi who lived 
long ago and knew everything that happened in heaven 



48 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

and upon earthy says^ that the Talmud is a mean slave and 
the Cabala the great queen. What does the Talmud con- 
tain ? It is full of little^ insignificant things. It teaches 
what to eat^ what is clean or unclean^ modest or immodest. 
'^ What do the books of the Zohar and Cabala tell us ? 
They tell us about the Lord and his Sephiroth ? They 
tell us their names, their doings and how the world was 
created. It is written there that the Lord's name is En- 
soph ; his second name, Notaricon ; his third, Gomatria; 
and his fourth, Ziruph. The Sephiroth, ten in number, are 
the manifestations of God. The Sephiroth created the 
world : the primal and archetypical man, the prophets, 
the power of destruction, the heavenly love. The tenth 
of the Sephiroth gave birth to the eye that watches over 
Israel and follows him everywhere, so that trouble should 
not come near him. All this, and more, teach the Zohar 
and Cabala. It teaches also that by different combina- 
tions of the letters contained in the names of the Lord 
and his heavenly emanations we may discover mysteries 
hitherto hidden to mortal eyes. It is a great science, the 
greatest and only science for the true Israelite. There are 
some who maintain the Talmud to be the more impor- 
tant, but it is not true ; they do not know that the earth 
will continue to shake and tremble in pain, till the Lord 
and Israel, the Father and the Matron join in the kiss of 
love, and the slave gives way to the queen, the Talmud to 
the Cabala. And when will that come to pass ? It will 
come to pass when the Messiah arrives to bring joy to all 
pious and wise men. Then the Lord will slay the Levia- 
tAan^ the great monster upon w\v\c\vt\i^^oA^^\ai.\x^^\ ^ 






MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 49 

i be bidden to the feast ; the wise and pious men to 
the part from the head, the simple and ignorant, from 
le tail," 

The melamed had finished, and sighed deeply ; and eud- 

inly descending from the mystic clouds turned his atten- 

don to earthly realities. Before him was a dish of daintily 

pepared fish, and the ascetic liked a good meal on the Sah- 

and enjoyed it as he did his prayers and mystic 

;htB. 

The whole assemhly was silent. Old Saul had listened 
with great earnestness, and the muscles of his face twitched 
with a nervous mysterious terror. The sons, likewise 
seemed to ponder deeply over the hazy problems, searching 
■haps for a spark of light to make them more intelligible. 
The women sat with their hands crossed, smiled to each 
other, and murmured softly, — 

"A learned man, a truly piona and wise man ! a worthy 
disciple of Rabbi Todros." 

A quick glance passed between Meir and Saul's son-in- 
law, Ber. Tlie eyes of tho first looked scornful and angry ; 
the latter, sad and dejected. When the melamed spoke of 
the monster Leyiathan, a smile like a sharp-pointed dagger 
curled round Meir's lips. Ber answered with a sigh. 
There was an almost imperceptible smile also upon the lips 
of some of the young men and then for a while nothing 
e was audible but the clatter of knives and forks upon 
table. After a while Saul took the word, — 
These are great things, great and fearful things which 
Mosze — tlianks be to him — told ua. Listen to our 
'Hcd men, oh children, for they are the foundation of 




60 MEIR EZOFOriTCH. 

the world. Whosoever respects them and listens to them 
will be forgiven for his trespasBea." 

Reb Mosze raiaed his head from hia plate, and with his 
mouth full, uttered indistinctly, — 

" Good deeds bring grace and forgiveness to man. They 
reveal to him the mysteries of earth aud heaven and carry 
hia Boul among the Sophiroth I" 

A deep and respectfnl silence greeted this sentence. 

Presently a clear young voice interrupted it, saying, — 

" Reh Mosze I what do you mean by good deeds ? 
What must we do, in order to save our souls and win 
grace ? " 

The melamed looked at his interlocutor and their eyes 
crossed like swords. 

" Is it you, Meir, who have been mypupilforyears, toask 
that question ? Have I not said it over and over again 
that there is only one meritorious thing in the world, and 
that is the study of the holy books. Who does that, will be 
forgiven hia sins ; who neglects it, is cursed forever and re- 
jected by Israel, be his hands and his soul as Bpotleas aa 
snow." 

Saying this, he turned towards Saul aud, pointing his 
dark finger at Meir, — 

" He knows nothing, remembers nothing of what I taught 
him." 

The old man bent his furrowed brow before the melamed, 
and said apologetically, — ■ 

" Forgive him, Rebe, he is but a child, he will become 
wiser in time, and less raah in his judgment ; — there have 
been ever wise and learned men in our family." 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 51 

Here the old man drew himself proudly up. 
" Listen children, grandchildren, and great-grandchil- 
dren ; Our family, the family of the Ezofovitch are not 
a common family. Thanks to the Lord, may his name be 
"blessed, there is wealth in our strong boxes, and elsewhere 
scattered.about the world ; but our greatest treasure is in the 
past of our family. Our ancestor was the Senior over all the 
Jews of this country, and had the favor and the ear of the 
King. My father Hersz, the great Hersz, lived with noble- 
men who invited him to their houses and drove him in 
their carriages, presented him to the King and the Diet 
because of his great wisdom.'* 

The old man paused and looked around. All eyes were 
upon him but the melamed's, who sipped his wine, his 
brow clouded as if in anger ; the great-grandmother seemed 
suddenly to wake from a doze, her eyes lighted up and she 
whispered, — 

"Hersz ! Hersz ! my husband, Hersz l'^ 
Then Saul went on, — 

" In our family there is a great treasure, the like of 
which is not to be found in Israel. This treasure is the 
papers of our ancestor, Michael Senior, in which great and 
wise things are written down. If we had now these 
writings we should be very happy ; unfortunately, nobody 
knows where they are.^' 

Two heads were stretched out towards the speaker, the 

moment he mentioned the hidden papers. One was the 

melamed's, the other Meir's, who looked with burning eyes 

at his grandfather. 

"These papers had been hidden for two ImnAi^d^^'sKt^ 



MEin EZOFOriTCU. 



m 62 

^m when my father Hersz found them. Where he found them 

^1 or where they are now, nobody knows, but the old great- 

H grandmother." 

^M " And why has she not told anybody where they are ?" 

^K chuckled venomously the me lamed. 

^M Saul answered, in a sad voice, — 

^P "Beb Nochim Todroa had forbidden it." 

" And why did not you, Saul, search for them ? " 
"Eeb Baruch Todros, tlie son of Eeb Nochim, and Eeb 
Isaac forbade me to search." 

"Let nobody ever search for it," ehonted the melaraed, 
raising his hand armed with a fork, " for the writing is 
full of blasphemy and abominations. 

" Eebe Saul I forbid your children, grandchildren and 
great-grandchildren ever to look for that writing ; for 
whosoever findeth it and readeth it to the people the 
Cherem will fall upon him, and he will be expelled from 
Israel. So sayeth Eeb Nochim and Reb Barach of blessed 
memory. Thus aayeth Eeb Isaac, may he live a hundred 
years," 

A dead silence followed upon the meiamed's violent 
utterance, interrupted only by a long, tremulous sigh. 
Whence it came nobody knew, but Meir, very pale, looked 
intently at his great-grandmother, who seemed to feel his 
look, for she raised her heavy eyelids and whispered, — 
" Meir." 

" Bobe," he answered, in a soft, caressing voice. 
"Kleinesltind" (little child), whispered the great-grand- 
mother, smiled at him sweetly, and went off to sleep 
again. 



• MEIR EZOFOVITCII. 53 

The Sabbath feast was drawing to its end, when a thing 
happened which, to a stranger, would have appeared 
surpassingly strange, but did not surprise those present 
in the least. Keb Mosze, whose dark features glowed 
with the generous wine, offered profusely by the host, 
suddenly rushed from his chair into the middle of the 
room. 

'* Sabbath ! Sabbath ! joy ! joy \" he shouted. " The 
whole heavenly crew is rejoicing and dancing. David 
danced before the Ark of the Covenant, why should not 
the pious man dance if his heart rejoices ! " Upon this he 
danced across the room, around the table, quicker and 
quicker beat his naked feet upon the floor, all his limbs 
contorted by frantic motions, till at last, exhausted, he 
sank heavily upon the floor, wiping the beads of perspira- 
tion from his face. 

Saul and his two sons looked grave and decorous, with- 
out the ghost of a smile upon their countenances. If 
there was a sarcastic twinkle in the old man^s face, nobody 
noticed it. The languid Ber sat erect, apparently indiffer- 
ent, but there was a frown upon his forehead Meir had 
buried his face in his hands, so as to shut out the sight 
and sound of the melamed^s exhibition ; but the elder 
women seemed wholly pleased, and had followed the me- 
lamed^s frantic dance with the rhythmical swaying of their 
bodies. Amongst the younger people there was a sup- 
pressed giggle. 

Presently Sara, SauFs daughter, rose and handed a sil- 
ver basin around to wash their hands. Murmuring a 
thanksgiving, they dipped the hands into the water and 



164 ifEin EZOFOviTcn. 

wiped them on a finely embroidered towel which hung from 
Sara's shoulders. 
This ended the Sabbath feast. 
By and by the whole gathering broke into little groups, 
and the room became filled with lively couversation. Meir, 
who had been standing thoughtfully at the window, ap- 
proached the group of elder people. Here Abrani, Rafael, 
and Ber were summing up before their father the last 
week's transactions ; and asked his advice and help. They 
counted numbers of sacks of corn and various sums re- 
ceived ; all their fingers seemed to be in motion. Foreign 
ports and prices of corn made their eyes glow with excite- 
ment. Old Saul looked now what he was, the right man 
in the right place. The solemn, half-puzzled expression 
with which he listened to the melamed was gone, his face, 
full of intelligence, grasped every detail of business at 
once. He was the patriarch at the head of his family, be- 
stowing advice or praise where it waa due. 

Meir listened indifferently to these details of buying and 
Belling. It was evident that he had not as yet a personal 
share in it ; but his eyes rested for a minute or so upon 
Ber. The usually languid and lazy Ber looked a different 
being. He was in the act of telling his father-in-law about 
some vast speculation be had in view, and for which be 
wanted a certain sum from his brothers. His eyes were 
flparkling, his lips moved very fast, and his hands were 
trembling with excitement. Meir went towards another 
group with the melamed in its centre. 

" Everything in the world," said the aage, "every 
human being, animal, blade of glass or stone have their 



1 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 55 

roots above, in the land of spirits. The whole world is 
like a gigantic tree, with its roots in heaven. It is like a 
great chain with its last link suspended above ; a sea which 
never dries, because filled continually by an inexhaustible 
stream of spirits. '^ 

Meir approached the window where two young men 
were absorbed in speculating whether it be true, if a man be 
unable to see his shadow at Sabbath night, he were doomed 
to die the same year. 

Meir looked around. In the adjacent room the women 
closely pressed together, were shrilly discussing household 
matters and the perfections of their children ; the young 
girls congregated in corners, laughing and singing now and 
then in subdued voices. 

Meir^s face showed he felt not drawn to any of the 
groups. He was amongst his people, yet not of them. 
He quietly left the room, and crossed the dark square in 
the direction of Reb JankieFs house. 

Whilst at Saul's house the feast had only just terminated, 
at Reb Jankiel's everything had been removed from the 
table a long time ago. It had only been a scanty meal, as 
the master of the house did not care for comforts, and, 
though very rich, was also very miserly. He had several 
inns in different villages, and seldom stayed at home, 
except on the Sabbath, and his wife Zenta and two grown- 
up daughters looked after the inn and did all the house- 
work besides. The wealth of the house was only displayed 
upon extraordinary occasions, such as the arrival of rich 
merchants or a visit of the rabbi, with whom he was a 
great favorite. Cleanliness and joy were strangers to the 



I 



. it empty. | 



S6 MEin EZOForiTcn. 

place. Meir opened the first room and fonnd it empty. 
A single tallow candle baming in the socket threw a fitful 
glimmer upon the blackened walls and stove, and the smell 
of dampness and fried fish hung heavy in the atmosphere ; 
H sound of loud snoring came from the next room, where 
the master of the house reposed. Beyond that was a room 
piled up with truuks and boxes, with linen and raga dry- 
ing upon lines ; here sat a woman rocking a child to sleep, 
herself crying silently. She raised her head and said a 
few friendly words to Meir, who passed on toward the door 
whence several masculine voices were audible. It was the 
room of the sweet singer Eliezer, and with him were some 
of the young men, Meir's cousins, who had sat with him 
at the same table. 

Eliezer raised his eyes to the newcomer, who sat quietly 
down. I 

" Meir," he said, gently. I 

" Well, Eliezer." ' 

" You have little patience. I have heard already," 
pointing to the young men, " about your discussions with 
the melamed." 

There was a mocking light in Meir's eyes. 

" Do you mean, Eliezer, that I was iU-adviaed in speak- 
ing to the melamed as I did ? " 

The cantor nodded. 

" It was well spoken and true ; but you have no business 
to say it, it will do you harm." 

The young man laughed sadly. 

" Let it harm me, I cannot be silent and see them turn- 
ing the people's heads and making idiots of us all." 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 57 

" Child ! child ! how can you mend it ? " said a languid, 
drawling voice from the door. 

They looked round; it was only Ber, the quiet and 
languid Ber, who entered and shut the door carefully after 
him, then stretched himself at full length upon Eliezer's 
bed and stared at the ceiling. They were evidently accus- 
tomed to see him there, as they did not interrupt their 
conversation. One of the young men repeated the me- 
lamed^s discussion on the Sephiroth and the great Levia- 
than. Another questioned Eliezer whether he thought 
the study of the Mischna and Zohar sufl&cient for the 
atonement of all sins. 

Eliezer listened with bent head, in silence ; then he 
said, — 

" Read the Tora,^ there it is written, that the Lord does 
not heed burnt offerings and incense, but bids us to love 
the truth, defend the helpless, teach the ignorant, and 
heal the sick ; these are our first duties.'^ 

The two young men opened their eyes wide, and said in 
one voice : 

" Then the melamed said what is not true ? " 

Eliezer remained silent, he evidently did not want to 
answer, but the young men tugged impatiently at his sleeve. 
" He said what is not true," he replied at last, in a timid 
voice. 

Meir put his hand upon his friend's shoulder. 

" Eliezer, when you came back from the great town, 
where they taught you how to sing, you told me the same. 

1 Five Books of Moses. 



[ 



68 MEIR EZOFOriTCB. 

You opened my eyes, which had already hegun to see a 
little ; you explained to me how the Israelites were not the 
same aa they used to be, that the clear fountain of their 
faith had become polluted, aud its waters corrupted our 
hearts and brains. You taught me, Eliezer, and you have 
been to me ever aince as a brother who helped me out of 
the darkness ; but from that time on I have felt a great 
restlessness and longing within my soul." 

" Eliezer taught you, Meir ; Eliezer is silent, and his 
pnpil speaks," drawled out Ber, ironically. 

" Oh ! if I only could apeak !" exclaimed the young 
man, with sparkling eyes, " if only I knew what to do ! " 
He then added in a low, desponding tone ; " But I can 
neither speak nor do anything. In my mind there is 
nothing hut a great hatred towai'ds those that cheat as, 
and a great love for those that are deluded." 

"Besides a great deal of audacity," hinted Ber, care- 
lessly. 

'• 1 have not been audacious yet, but if I knew only how 
to act I should find the courage," said Meir, 

There was silence again, which Meir interrupted, — 

" How happy you are, Eliezer ! " 

" Why am I happy ? " 

"You have been in the world, seen great things, and 
heard wise men talk. Oh, if I could go there ! " 

" Eliezer, tell us about the great world," said the lads, 
their eyes aglow with curiosity and longing. 

Eliezer was the only one of the young men in the com- 
munity who had seen the world. He owed this to his 
wonderful voice. Long ago he had told everything there 



MEin EZOFOVITCII. 59 

was to tell, bnt they were never tired of asking and listen- 
ing again. 

He told them about the big houses and the polished 
people living within ; how many of tbem were Israelites 
who not only possessed great wealth, bnt also public con- 
sideration ; not because of their riches, people were rich 
enough in Szybow, but for being great scholars in other 
things than in the Misebna and Gemara. 

" We have no schools here that teach us anything, 
because Rabbi Isaac and Eeb Moszo say that worldly knowl- 
edge is like the vineyards of Sodoma, which orthodox 
Israelites ought to shun." 

"Eliezer, tell us about the carriages that move without 
horses, and the great man who invented them." 

" Eliezer, do all Israelites observe restrictions about 

Itiieir food ? " 
■ " Eliezer, what do they say about onr Rabbi Todros ?" 
■ " Nothing good." 

General astonishment ! the Israelites in the world do not 
speak well of Rabbi Todros ! do not believe in Ensoph and 
the Sephiroth or the Cabala ! 
L " What do they say about the Talmud ? " 
^t " They say the Talmud is a good and wise book, 
written by good and wise men, but that it wants condens- 
ing ; as there are many things which were good and 
useful once, but are not so now and do more harm than 
good." 

Great astonishment again. Shorten the Talmud because 
it is diiRcult to learn, destroys the memory and bewilders 
children. That is true. They remembered how it had 



I 



60 MEIIt EZOFOriTCn. 

tired tlieir heada, and little Leibelcj the tailor's son, ha<3 
been made ill and an idiot through it. 

" And did anybody ever shorten the Talmud ?" 
" Yea, the great sage, Moses Maimonides, did it and thw 
rabbis excommunicated him." 

The rabbis excommnnicated a great sage ; then a rabbi 
can be bad and unjust, and one ought not to believe every- 
thing they say, 

" And did Moses Maimonides write any other book ? " 

"Yes, he wrote also 'More Xebiichim, the guide 

to those who have lost their way/ a wise and good 

book to make one weep with tenderness and laugh witli 

joy" 

"Have you got the book, Eliezer ?" 

"I have." 

" Where did you get it from ?" 

" A wise Israelite, who is an advocate in the great town, 
gave it to me." 

" Eliezer, read ub something out of that book." 

In this way the ignorant minds of the young men re- 
ceived a ray of light. It was not sufBcient to form their 
minds or guide them to a better life : hut enough to show 
them the darkness they lived in and make them feel the 
chains which fettered their spirits. 

" Eliezer ! " called out Meir, "shall we never raise our 
voices and bid the people wake up and live ? Shall we 
always grope underground like worms, and hear quietly the 
misery of the people." 

Eliezer dropped his eyes and raising his white hands. 



MEin EZOFOVITCU. 61 

" I sing and pray for my people every day, before the 
Lord," 

Meir made a gesture of impatience, Ber raised himself 
from the bed and laughed aloud, but there was no mirth 
in his laughter. 

" Sing aud weep," he said to Eliezer, " your cruel father 
has crushed all the spirit out of you." 

Then he put his hand heavily on Meir's shoulder. 

" This is the bold youth, who will try to swim against 
the current ; hut I fear the current will be too strong, 
— where will it carry you ? " 

When Meir left Eliezer's room he passed again the 
woman who still bending over the cradle, seemed asleep. 
The flickering light of the lamp fell upon her yellow, 
wasted face, which looked more ghastly in her festive cap 
and the red rose which drooped upon her forehead. Her 
blue threadbare caftan only half covered the coarse gray 
linen underneath. She was not an old woman, but over- 
worked, badly used, and troubled. One look at her was 
sufficient to show she had never known domestic happi- 
ness and would never reach the ripe old age amidst grand 
and great grandchildren as Freida, Hersz's widow. Jenta, 
the pious Jankeil's wife, was like a dead spirit within a 
live body. 

After the last steps of the visitors had died away in the 
distance, and nothing was heard in the house but the 
heavy breathing of the sleeping inmates, Eliezer stood 
in the open door of his room and looked at the dozing 
woman. 

" Mother ! " he said, softly, " why do you not lie down ? 



MEIR EZOFOVITCU. 



1 



I 



Little Chaya ha8 fallen asleep and will not cry again, 
down, mother, and rest a little," 

The woman opened her eyes at the sound of her son's 
voice. 

" Eiiezer ! come here," she whispered. 

The young man came nearer and sat down upon the bed. 

"How can I sleep," murmured the tired woman, 
" when my head is so bad. Little Chaya is ill and may 
wake np any minute ; if she cries, Jankiel will hear and 
get into a rage." 

" G-o to sleep, mother," whispered the son, " I will take J 
your place and watch by the cradle." i 

The yellow, wrinkled face, with the rod rose nodding \ 
above it, bent down to seek rest, not on the piled up dirty j 
bedding, but upon her son's knees, 

Eliezer, with his elbows leaning upon the edge of the | 
bed, his forehead buried in his hands, fell into a reverie ; ' 
now and then he rocked the cradle with his foot, singing ,! 
softly. j 

" Oh ! my poor, poor head," moaned the woman in her '\ 
sleep. I 

" Poor head of Israel," murmured the young man over I 
the cradle. ^ 

About the same time, a little before Eliezer's friends I 
were leaving, a dark human figure crossed swiftly the I 
square, entered the precincts of the synagogue, and disap- I 
peared in Rabbi Todros' hut. 

Rabbi Todros heard the creaking of the door, and called 
out from the depth of his room, — 




MEIB EZOFOVITCH. 63 

" Is that you, Mosze ? ^^ 

" Yes, Nasi, it is your humble servant. May the angels 
watch over your dreams, and the breath of your nostrils 
be like incense and mirrha to you ! ^^ 

The deep voice again asked, — 

" Where have you been all this time, Mosze ? " 

" I have been at Saul Esofovitch's. The Sabbath feast 
is well ordered there, and I go often to rejoice my soul/^ 

" You do well, Mosze, to rejoice on the Sabbath. What 
news from there ? " 

"Bad news, 0, Nasi, (Sage). Amongst the roses and 
lilies lurks a venomous reptile. '' 

" What reptile ? " 

" A reptile that undermines our holy faith and infects 
the house of Israel with poisonous doctrines ? " 

" From whose heart sprang that reptile ? " 

"From the heart of Meir Esofovitch, SauFs grand- 



son.'' 



" Have you heard it with your ears and seen with your 
own eyes ? Tell me, Mosze, I am responsible for all the 
souls in the community, and ought to know everything." 

A momentary silence ensued. The melamed, squatting 
in the dark entrance, was evidently collecting his thoughts. 

Presently he began, in his hoarse voice, — 

" I have heard and seen myself that Meir Esofovitch 
was not present at the prayers and came in after the Sab- 
bath had begun. I asked where he had been, and he said 
he had defended the hut of Abel Karaim and his grand- 
daughter, Golda.'' 

The voice from the room said, — 



64 MEIR EZOFOVITCB. 

" He defended the heretics and broke the Sabbath I 

"He doOB not rejoice on the Sabbath, and says that in 
the lioly book nothing is said about Eneoph and his 
Sephiroth, and that the Almighty does not command to 
persecute heretics." 

■'Abomination comes from the mouth of the young 

,n. The soul of his great-grandfather Hersa has entered 
into his body." 

" Nasi," aaid Moaze, a little louder than before. An in- 
distinct murmur behind the door encouraged him to pro- 
ceed. 

" He will search for the writing of Michael Ezofoyiteh, 
I have seen it in his eyes, and will find it. If he find it 
and read it aloud to the people they will rebel against your 
holy teaching." 

" If he find the writing, my right hand will be down 
upon him and crash him into powder." Mosze I what did 
he do after supper ?" 

" He went to Eeb Jankiel's house and talked long with 
the Cantor Eliezer, I saw him through the window." 

" Who else was there, Mosze ? " 

"Chaim, Mendel, Ariel and Ber, Saul's sou-in-law." 

" What did they talk about ? " 

" Nasi ! I was all ears whilst I stood under the window. 
They bewailed the darkness in which they are kept, said 
that the faith of Israel was like a clear river which had 
been polluted, Eliezer said he saug and prayed for his 
people, and Meir replied it were not enough to sing and 
pray, but a mighty voice ought to call out to the people 
to be up and doing, and if he only could." 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 65 



" Race of vipers ! ^^ growled the voice from the room. 
" Nasi ! who are the race of vipers ? ^' 
After a short silence the answer came : 
" The family of Hzofovitch* 



B«6 



MEIB EZOFOriTCa. 



CHAPTER III. 



A FEW months had paeaed hy. A balmy evening had 
followed upon a warm day in May. 

Shortly before sunset, two beings passed along one of 
the narrowest and poorest streets of the town. One was a 
she-goat, white aa snow ; the other, a girl. The goat was 
leading the way, jumping nimbly at the branches of the 
few scattered trees. The girl walked sedately behind. It 
was difficult to gueaa her age, which might have been 
thirteen or seventeen. Though tall, her figure waa quite 
undeveloped, but the expreaaion of thoughttiilneas gave 
her the air of a woman. She was poorly dreaaed in a 
faded cotton gown and coarse low shoes. Her only orna- 
ment was several strings of roughly cut corala which set 
off her clear, olive complexion. The cheeks were thin and 1 
hollow, ahe seemed all eyes, but they were of a soft, velvety 11 
blacknesa, fringed with long eyelashes. In the erect bear- 
ing of this child-woman there was something proud and 
untamed. She walked straight on, but whenever the 
sound of human voices reached her ear she pressed closer 
to the wall or hedge, and her eyes seemed to express doubt h 
or fear as, if she wanted to escape from observation. They 
seemed to be the best of friends these two, for whenever 
the goat indulged in some wilder freak, a low call from 
the girl would instantly bring it back. At the end of the 
narrow street a beautiful stretch of emerald green bathed 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 67 

in the evening sun burst upon the eye. It was a little 
meadow close to the town, fringed with a birch wood on 
one side, with large tracts of fields beyond, and in the 
distance a long, blue line of forests. At the sight of the 
meadow the girl slackened her steps, called back the goat, 
and holding her by the horns, stood still and looked upon 
the lively scene which displayed itself before her eyes. 
Some twenty children and as many more goats, white, 
black, and speckled ones, were mixed up together in wild 
confusion. Merry voices, shouts of laughter mixed with 
plaintive protests from the goats, filled the air. The girl 
looked impassively at the children chasing the goats, which 
would not be caught or yield obedience. The merry scene 
was evidently neither attractive nor new to her : she 
seemed to wait for something, perhaps for the disappear- 
ance of the children from the meadow. Presently the 
scattered voices united in a shout of triumph ; their play- 
ful charges had at last been captured. The more rebel- 
lious ones were led by the horns, others were boldly be- 
stridden, the girls holding fast by the long hair, and all 
trotted off in the direction of the town ; when soon 
amidst clouds of dust, children and goats disappeared in 
one of the broader streets. 

The little meadow was now lonely and deserted ; only 
the evening breeze whispered in the branches of the birch- 
trees, and the setting sun covered it with a transparent, 
rosy haze. The girl loosened her hands from the goat's 
neck, which bounded forwards, the girl following swiftly. 

She stopped suddenly, her eyes, fixed upon one point, 
grew bright with excitement. 



Upon a Mien tronk neur the wood at a yoimg man^ 
absorbed in reading. 

The gill went qaiekly and sileiitfy np to him, bent down 
and pi^assed htH- lips to his hand. He started, withdrew 
his hand« and Unshed with confusion. 

"'^ Yon do not know me^"^ siid the girl., in a low, earnest 
Toice. 

** Xo« I do not«** answ^i^ the Toang man. 

** It is not likelv Toa should, but I know yon. You are 
Meir EzofoTitch. the snrandson of the wealthy Saul. I 
have often seen you sining in the poivh of your beautiful 
house, seen you passing with your book along the Karaite's 
hilL*^ She said all this in a quiet and even tone, neither 
blushed* nor showed any sisru of timidity, but her eyes 
looked more luminous, and there was a yeiy sweet expres- 
sion aK>ut her lips. 

•• Who are vou ? " askod Meir. in a low tone. 

*•' I am Golda. the granvldaughter of the despised and 
persecuted Abel Karaim.** Uer voice seemed to lose that 
eyen steadiness, and trembW slightly. - They all per- 
secute Abel Karaim and his irar.dilauirhter: you alone stand 
up for themu I wanteil to thank you long ago." Meir's 
eyes drooped, the biush had not vet dievl out from his face. 

•' Peace be with you and your grandfather Abel : may 
the right hand of the Loid. who loyes and protects those 
who suffer, be over your house ! ** 

'•' Thanks bo to you for these words." whispered the girl, 
and sitting down at the feet of the young man, she raised 
her clasped hands and murmured. — 

*' Meir. you are wise and beautiful. Your name means 



k 



MEIR KZOFOVITCir. 69 

the light, and I have seen the light when I see you, I 
^vanted to meet you long ttgo, and speuk with you. Though 
you are the grandson of the wealthy Saul, and I the grand- 
daughter of the poor Karaim who makes baskets, we are 
ail children of the one Lord, and I may raise my eyes to 
yon, look into the light, and be happy !" 

And she looked indeed iiappy. There was life and 
color now in the hollow cheeks, the lips were quivering 
and the eyes raised towards the yonug man, Bhiuing with 
tears. Meir had listened with bis eyes fixed upon the 
ground ; when she left oS speaking, he raised them and 
looked at her. 

" Golda I how grateful you are, and — how beautiful I " 
For the first time during their conversation Golda's eyes 
fell, and mechanically she swept and gathered around her 
the tall grasses with the waving plumes. 

Meir looked at her for a. long time in silence. He felt 
ahy and confused, yet radiant with a new-born joy. 
" Sit here by me," he said, in a tow voice. 
The girl raised herself and sat down by his side. She 
recovered her usual composure and qniet earnestness. 

They were silent for a long while. Overhead, the birch 

treea waved and murmured. The birds were singing their 

even song. Meir seemed absorbed in the contemplation of 

the long grafiscB. At last he first broke the silence, — 

" Why do you drive out your goat so late in the day ? " 

" I do not care to come when the other girls arc there." 

"Do they, too, persecute you ?" 

" They laugh at me and call me ugly names ; somctimea 
drive me off, so as not to be near me." 



70 MEIR EZOFOVITCn. 

Meir's eyes were full of pity. 

'^ Golda ! are yon afraid of the girls ?** 

Golda shook her head in denial. 

** I have grown up in fear and I am used to it. Fear is 
my brother. But when I go home ihe old zeide asks 
whether I have met anybody or anybody has hurt me. I 
cannot say what is untrue^ and if I say the truth the old 
zeide becomes very sad and weeps." 

" Has the zeide brought you up ? " 

The girl nodded. 

" My father and mother died when I was no bigger 
than this little shrub. Zeide had no other children, he 
rocked me and looked after me ; carried me on his arms 
when I was ill, and kissed me. When I grew older, he 
taught me how to spin, to read the Bible, and told me the 
beautiful stories the Karaites brought with them from far- 
away countries. Zeide is good, zeide is lovable, and so old 
and so very poor. His hair is as white as snow and his 
eyes as red as coral from weeping. Whilst he plaits his 
baskets I often sit at his feet, with my head upon his knees, 
and he strokes my hair with trembling hands, sighs and 
repeats: 'Josseime! josseime* (orphan)." 

Suddenly, from a distance, the bleating of the goat was 
audible. Meir looked round : 

" Will not your goat go astray in the wood ? " 

"No," said the girl quietly, '^ she comes at once when 
I call her ; she is my sister." 

" Fear is your brother and the goat your sister," said 
the young man smilingly. 

The girl turned round and gave a peculiar call. There 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 71 

was a rustle amongst the branches^ sounds of quick motion^ 
presently the white creature appeared between the over- 
kanging branches of the birch-tree, and gazed with intel- 
ligent eyes at the young people. 

*'Come here/' said Golda. 

The goat came close to, and the girl stroked her silky, 
white hair, Meir stroked her, too, and smiled. The goat 
bleated and jumped into the air to reach a savory branch 
above. 

*'How obedient she is," said Meir. 

*' She loves me," said Golda, simply. "I brought her 
ttp> as zeide brought me up. She was a tiny kid when 
zeide brought her as a gift for me, and I carried it in my 
^^xm, fed it, and when it was ill, I sang to it as zeide sung 
^ me." She smiled and looked like a child of not more 
^han fourteen. 

*' Would you like to have another kid ?" asked Meir. 
* ^es, I should like it very much. When zeide has made 
^ore baskets and I have spun some more wool, we will buy 
^ little white one in the market." 

*' And for whom do you spin ? " 

" Some good women give me the wool to spin. Hana, 
*he wife of Witebski, and your aunt, the wife of Ber." 

" And do you come to our house, sometimes, Golda, to 
tftke the wool for spinning ? " 

'* Yes, I come sometimes." 

" And why have I never seen you ? " 

" Because it is a secret. Ber and his wife, Sara, are 
very charitable, but do not wish people to know that they 
help me and the zeide. I come when there is nobody in 



r 



72 MEin BZOFoyiTca. 

the house, except perhaps your couBin Lia, and I always 

manage bo that the dark man does not see it." 

What dark man ? Who is the dark man ? " said Meir, 
wonderingly. 

The Rabbi Isaac Todros," whispered Golda, myate- 
rioualy. 

At the sound of that name the smile died out from 
Heir's face, and hia brow darkened. He almost seemed 
to forget the girl at his side and fell into a brown 
study. 

"Meir," whispered a timid voice near his shoulder, 
"what has made you so thoughtful, and whyare yonr eyes 
sad ? Your name means the light. Do you not always 
live in the light of joy and contentment ? " 

The young man shook his head. 

" No," he whispered back, " there is great sadness in my 
heart." 

" Meir ! whence does that sadness come ? " 

" It comes from dark men, and from its being, oh so 
dark around us." 

She echoed sadly, 

" Oh, so dark." 

Meir looked absently into the distance, where the dark 
line of the forest stood out against the golden sky. 

" Golda ! " he said. , 

"Yes, Meir." 

" Did you ever wish to go beyond yon forest, away, far 
away into the world ?" 

The girl was silent, but her face showed that she wished 
for nothing, as long aa she could be with him. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCB. 73 

" I should like to borrow a pair of wings/* continued 
Meir, " and fly away into the world/' 

^'Do you not like your beautiful house? and are not 
your relations dear to you, that you should wish to fly away 
from them ? " whispered the girl, half frightened. 

" I like the house and love my relations," said the youth 
dreamily, *' but I should like to learn wise things and be 
able to teach others ; and am also curious to know how 
the stars move in the heavens above, and the plants grow 
upon earth ; how many books have been written ; to read 
them all and learn from them God's thoughts and the 
progress of the nations ; I would fill my soul with great 
thoughts, as the sea is filled with water. I should 
like " 

Here he sighed, as if he could not find words strong 
enough to express his wishes and longings. After a while 
he said, more composedly, — 

" I should like to be as happy as Eabbi Akiba was." 

" And who was Kabbi Akiba," asked Golda, shyly. 

" He was a great man. I often read his history. I was 
reading it when you came." 

" I know a great many beautiful stories, they grow in 
my soul like sweet roses. Give me another rose, Meir, to 
take care of when I do not see you." 

Their looks met. A soft, dreamy smile was on Meir's 
lips. 

" Do you know Hebrew," he asked. 

The girl nodded. ^^Yes. I know. Zeide taught 



me." 



Meir turned a few leaves in the heavy book and read, — 



f m 

'' Galba Sheva waa a wealthy man. His palaces were 1 
uuto mountains high, and his garments ehone with gold I 

tand costly atones, and in his gardens grew balmy cedare, 
broad-leaved palms, and roses of Sharon. 
•' But more beautiful by far than his great palaces, than 
his sweet-smelling cedars and roses of Sharon, waa his 
young daughter, Kachel. 

" There dwelt upon the mountain ayouth named Joseph 
Akiba, and he tended hia master's herds. 

" Aud it came to pass that the beautiful Rachel came to 
her father, fell upon her face before him, kissed his fset, 
wept, and said to him, — || 

" Let me go and marry Joseph Akiba, to live with him " 
in tiie lowly hut upon the mountain. 

" Calba Sheva was proud and hard of heart. He fell into 
a great wrath against the beautiful Bachel and bade her p 
forget the young shepherd. I 

" But she went forth from the great palace and took ] 
nothing with her except her black eyes which shone aa 
diamonds, with tears, and her black hair which was like a 
crown upon her brow. And she went upon the mountain, 
entered the lowly hut, and said,— 

" ' Akiba, thy wife has come into your house.' 

" Akiba felt a great joy and dried the tears that hnng 
like diamonds upon her eyelashes, and wise words, like " 
honey, flowed from his lips ; she listened and was 
happy. 

"'Akiba,' she said, 'thou will be like a great star to 
lighten the ways of Israel.' 

' ' Calba Sheva was proud and hard of heart. He did not 




MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 75 

eend either food or garments to his daughter upon the 
mountain, and said; "Let her suffer hunger and know 
poverty/ 

" The beautiful Rachel suffered hunger and knew pov- 
erty. There came a day when she had no food to put into 
Akiba's mouth, and she grew thoughtful. 

"Akiba said: ^It matters not that I be hungry,* and 
began telling her wise things ; but she arose, descended 
from the mountain, and went into the town and called 
aloud : ' Who will give me a measure of millet for the black 
crown upon my head.* They gave her the measure of 
billet and took off from her head the crown more beau- 
tiful than pearls and diamonds. 

^* And she came back upon the mountain, entered the 
lowly hut, and said : ' Akiba, I have food to put into thy 
^outh, but thy soul lacketh and I have nothing to feed it 
^ith. Go into the world and fill thy soul with wisdom 
*h.at comes from the lips of wise men. I remain here, 
*^d on the threshold will I sit and spin and tend your 
^^rds, and look along the road until you return like the 
s^ti which cometh back to disperse the darkness of the 

*' And Akiba went forth, — 

Here the reader stopped, as close to his shoulder the girl 
repeated, in a wondering, awed voice, — 

*^ And Akiba went forth.** 

'^ And Akiba went forth,** continued Meir. " The 
beautiful Eachel tended the herds and sat spinning on 
the threshold, and looked down the road whence he was to 
return shining with wisdom. 



76 MKIli EZOFUVJTCU. 

'■ Seven years laad passed. It was in the evening, when 
the moon poura liia silvery light upon the earth, and the 
trees and plants are silent as if the spirit of the Infinite 
were upon them, that brings peace and silence to the 
world. 

" That evening a tall and pale man came from behind the 
mountain. His limbs trembled like the leaves when the 
wind stirs them, and his hands were stretched out to 
heaven. And when he approached the lowly hut, tears 
ran down his face, for he was Akiba, the husband of the 
beautiful Rachel. 

" Akiba stood under the open window of his hut and 
listened to the voices of the people speaking within. It 
was Rachel who spoke to her brother, whom the father 
had sent out to her. ' Gome back to the house of Calba 
Sheva,' said the brother ; and she replied, 'I am waiting 
for Akiba and guarding his house.' The brother said, 
'Akiba will never come back. He has left you and 
brought shame upon you.' And she answered, 'Akiba 
has not left me. I sent him forth to the source of wisdom 
and bade him fill his soul thereat.' 'He drinks at the 
source of wisdom, and you bathe in tears and your body 
dries up in misery.' — ' Let my eyes run over with tears, 
and my body eaten by misery, I will guard my husband's 
house. And if he stood before me now, he for whom my 
soul is filled with love, and said, "Rachel, I have come 
back, so that thy eyes should weep no more, but I have 
drunk but little from the source of wisdom," I wonld say 
to him, " go forth and drink more." ' 

" The pale traveller who stood under the window which 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 77 

was open^ became paler still when he heard Rachers words ; 
his limbs shook from great emotion^ and he went back 
whence he had come. 

^ ^ Again seven years passed. And a day arrived when the 
sun poured a stream of golden light upon the earth, the 
trees moved in the wind and the flowers burst forth and the 
birds sang, and the people rejoiced as if the spirit of the 
Eternal had breathed upon them, who bringeth life and 
joy to the world. 

^^ A great crowd went along the road that leads up the 
mountain to the shepherd's hut. In the midst of them 
walked a tall man and his face shone like the sun with 
wisdom, and from his mouth came words as sweet as honey 
and as balmy as mirrha. The people bowed low before 
him and hung upon his lips, and called out with great 
love, ' Oh, Rabbi ! ' And a woman rushed through the 
crowd, fell upon her face and embraced the Master's knees. 
She held the spindle in her hand, rags covered her body, 
her face was lean, because fourteen years of misery had 
eaten up her body ; her eyes were deeply sunk, because 
fourteen years of tears had washed tlieni out. 

*^ ' Go thy ways, beggar woman,' said the people, but the 
Master raised her up from the earth and pressed her to his 
heart ; for it was Joseph Akiba and the woman was his 
wife Rachel. ' Behold the well which moistened my parched 
soul with hope whilst my head with yearning and labor 
dived into the source of wisdom.' 

" Thus spoke the Master to the people, and he wished to 
put upon Eachel's head a crown of gold and pearls. * Thou, 
Rachel,^ he said, ' tookest from thy head thy beautiful hair 



r 



\ 



78 ^flER EzoForiTcn. 

to feed my hungry mouth, I will ailorii thy brow with a 

costly crown,' 

" But she stayed his hand and raised her eyes which had 
become beautiful again, and said, — 

■' ' Oh, Rabbi ! thy glory la my crown ! ' " 

The young mau had finished reading and raised hia eyes 
to the gir! at his side. Golda's face was glowing and her 
eyes full of tears. 

" A beautiful story, Golda, is it not ?" 

" Beautiful," ahe answered, swaying her body softly in 
ecstatic delight. — Suddenly, her eyes dried np, she grew 
very pale, and stood up erect,— 

" Meir ! if you were Akiba, and I the daughter of.Calba 
Sheva, I would do the same for you." And slowly she 
raised the heavy tresses aud twisted them around her 
head. " And I have a black erown like Rachel." 

Her shining eyes fixed npon Meir, she said, in a quiet 
Toice : " I would give my eyes for you, Meir ; what use are 
they to me if I could see you no longer ? " 

The young man blushed deeply ; it was not from shyness 
now, bat from emotion. The girl was so innocent, so un- 
tamed, and withal so beautiful, with her wealth of hair and 
the passionate words upon the serious lips. 

" Golda ! " said Meir, " I will come some day and see yonc 
grandfather." 

" Come I " she replied, " your presence will bring light 
into our house." 

The snn had set behind a purple cloud. The Httle pond, 
half hidden amongst flags aud osiers, shone like a silver 
sheet. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 79 



(€ 



Why do you look at the pond ? " asked Meir, whose 
eyes could not take themselves off from the girl^s face. 

" I should like to cut some of the willow branches and 
osiers, to take them home ; zeide makes baskets from it 
and sells them in the market to the peasants. He buys 
bread with the money, and sometimes fish. It is long 
since he has had anything to make baskets with, and it 
makes him sad.^^ 
*^ And why do you not take what you want ? " 
"I am not allowed to gather any/' 
*' Why not ? The meadow belongs to the community, 
and people are allowed to take what they want.^* 

^' What of that, if they are allowed. We do not belong 
to them, do not believe in the Talmud, and burn no lights 
on the Sabbath.'' 

IMeir jumped up eagerly. 

^' Come, Golda, cut as much as you like, I shall be near, 
*xxd nobody will harm you." 

Golda's face brightened. She took Meir's knife, which 

l^e had offered, and blithely went towards the pond. She 

Was safe under his protection and able to provide for the 

grandfather what he wanted. She looked the child again 

when she called to the goat and looked back to see whether 

Meir was following. They both stood on the verge of the 

pond. In an instant Golda threw off her shoes, shortened 

^er dress, and went into the water. Meir looked on whilst 

she was bending down and cutting the flexible branches, 

and the evening light played upon her shiny plaits. Now 

and then she looked up and smiled, showing two rows of 

pearly teeth, Meir smiled back in sympathy. The goat 



r 



80 MEIR EZOFOVlTCil. 

Btood by anil craned her neck to see her mistress. Prea- 
ently Golda uttered a cry of delight. 

" Wliat is it ? " naked Meir. 

" Oh the beautiful llowera ! " 

" What Howera ? " 

The slender figure half-emerged from the rushes and 
stretched out her hand, holding a broad-leaved water lily, 
but, before Meir had put his hand out to receive it, the 
flower dropped from the girl's nerveless hand, and an ex- 
pression of terror came upon her face. " The dark man," 
she whispered, and crouched low amongst the tall reeds. 

Meir looked round. At a short distance from under the 
low andergrowth appeared a strange figure. It was a man 
below the average height, of very dark complexion, his 
black hair was slightly tinged with gray, and his beard fell 
down to his waist. He was dressed in a long narrow coat, 
much worn, and the coarse linen shirt, open in front, dis- 
played a yellow craning neck. He walked fast and noise- 
lessly by, in slippers. Birds fluttered about him. They 
evidently knew him well, aa they would occasionally perch 
upon his back or hair. Both his hands were filled with 
plants. He passed close to where Meir stood, without 
looking up ; the latter mechanically bowed his head in 
sign of respect and humility, but raised it at once, and his 
brow contracted, as if in pain. He followed him with hia 
eyes across the meadow, and through his cleuched teeth 
muttered, " Eabbi Isaac Todros." I 



d 




MEIR EZOFOVITCB. 



CHAPTEE IV. 



'4 



Habbi Isaac Todbos showed tiiiimstakRble traces of 
his Spanish origin. These wanderers npon earth, who 
cling so tenaoiously to tlieir customa and traditions, never- 
theless absorb something of the country where they have 
lived for any length of time. The darkest of dark com- 
lilexiona, eyes and hair, and the moat fiery temperament 
bBlonged to Isaac Todroa. 

What was the real position he ocenpied in the com- 
munity ? 

He was not a priest. The rabbis are not priests ; and 
no nation is further removed from theocratic rnle than the 
laraelitea. He was not an administrator of the community, 
as the civil affairs were dealt with by the Elders of the 
Cahala, the rabbi'a function in the Cahala being that of 
guardian over religions laws and ceremonies. His was a 
higher position altogether. By birth he belonged to a 
princely family, and claimed the title of Nasi, a family 
who had produced great and learned men. He himself 
was deeply learued in the sacred books, especially the 
Cahala, and lived the life of an ascetic and a saint. 

Those little conversant with religious matters relating to 
the Israelites, might presume the people of Szybow be- 
longed to one of the dark sects of the Chaaidim who exalt 
the Cabala above all religious and worldly science. This was 



MEIB SZOFOVITCH. 



1 



I 



\ 



not the caBe. They did not look upon themselreB as dis- : 
BsnterB, but as trne believers in the Talmud ; they had ■ 
simply joined tho Cabala to the Talmud and Tora, and by 
and by had begun to look upon it as the highest authority. 
But Chasidism had passed over the community at one 
time, and left its traces behind. It was said tiiat Beb 
Nochim, the rabbi who struggled with Heraa Eaofovitcli 
for supremacy, had been a disciple of Best, the founder of 
the sect ; and, though he never openly belonged to them, 
yet he introduced some of their doctrines into the com- 
munity. The main doctrines were a boundless veneration 
for the Cabala and for those that were given to its study, 
and deep hatred towards aliens and their science. 

Rabbi Isaac's dark forehead was ploughed in deep fur- 
rows, which grew deeper when he tried to pierce the 
mysteries of earth and heaven through the combination of 
letters contained in the names of God and the angels. 
Gleams of joy or of terror shone in his eyes, according to 
whether he contemplated the bliss or tlie anguish of the 
future life. His back was bent with poring over the holy 
books, and his body dried up with spiritual and physical 
castigation. 

He had been married even before the hair of maturity 
had begun to grow upon his face. But he soon divorced 
his wife when he found that with her household duties she 
hindered him from concentrating his miud upon holy mat- 
ters. His three children were with his brother, and he , 
himself lived like a hermit, wholly given up to prayers and '■ 
mystic contemplations. lie cared nothing for bodily com- ' 
fortsandlivedunon the gifts sent by his ardent worshippers, : 



1 



JtfEJZe EZOFOVITCH. 83 

These gifts were soiall and insignificant ; he would not 
take apything costly ; neither did he accept payment for the 
advice or medicine which he bestowed upon the faithful. 

The earliest dawn would see some silent figures glide 
across the schoolyard and noiselessly deposit some bread, 
or cake, or an earthen diah of food before his door. 

About this time the rabbi would be at his prayers before 
the open window and fix his eyes, tired with nightly study. 
Upon the far East, towards Jerusalem and the invisible 
ruins of the Temple. After that he took some of the 
bread, ate sparingly and threw the remainder to the birds, 
■^vhich at that time would come in clouds, and almost 
clarken the little window. Some with joyful twitter car- 
ried the food to their nesta, others perched upon the bent 
shoulders of their benefactor, even the swallows nesting 
OTcr the window peeped out at him with fearless eyes. 
At such time the austero features did relax a little, he was 
©yen known to smile. The birds knew him well, not only 
those in town, but likewise in the wood where he went for 
prayer and meditation, and to collect the plants of which 
he composed hia medicines. One of his ancestors, Todros 
Halevi, had been a physician of great repute in those 
times, when Israelites devoted themselves to other sciences 
than mere religious study. Tlie knowledge of the prop- 
erties of plants and drugs liad been handed down from 
generation to generation in the family, and increased their 
mysterious, almost miraculous reputation. In summer 
and autumn, a pungent, aromatic smell pervaded the at- 
mosphere of tlie Rabbi's dwelling ; layers upon layers of 
were spread upon the floor, to catch the few rays of 



of j 



84 MEl[t EZOFOmCH. 

sua, and sadly out of place looked these pale blosaomB 
amongBt the dust arxuinulatod for ages. 

It was a mere anchorite's cell ; the furniture consisted 
of a small, narrow bed, a deal table, a few stools and some 
heayy boards, riveted to tho wall, full of books. Amongst 
them some twelve heaiy volnmes were conspicuous by 
their size, old print, and heavy parchment binding. One 
of those was the Talmud, above it the Ozar-ha-kabod, 
written by the same ancestor, Ilalevi Todros, the first 
Talmudist who believed in the Cabala. Toldoth-Adam, an. 
epic describing the first man and exile, Sepher-Yetzira. 
(the book of creation), an apocalyptic description of tho 
creation of the universe. Schiur-Koma, a plastic descrip- 
tion of God's physical attributes, dealing with the dimen- 
sions of his head, feet, hands, and especially his beard, 
which according to the book, reaches the length of 10,500 
paraaanghi. But on the highest shelf, and evidently the 
volume most in use, was the book of Light, the Zohar, an. 
extensive and deep treatise of Chochma Nistar (Cabala), 
which in the name of Rabbi Simon-ben-Jochai, who liveA 
several centuries before, was published by Moses of Leon 
in the thirteenth century. 

Such were the books of which consisted Isaac Todros' 
collection ; such the source whence he drew his wisdom, 
and over the study of which he consumed his body. The 
flnbtlo aroma of these volumes filled him with mystic 
emotion, and added fuel to the deep hatred towards every- 
thing foreign, or inimical to these dark doctrines. 

Over these books he spent the greater part of the night. J 
On Sabbath or festive nights there was a slight difference;! 



MEIR EZOFOVITCII. 85 

he did not sit alone. At those times Reb Mosze^ the 
melamed, sat at his feet, whose function it was to snufE the 
single tallow candle, which the pious student is not al- 
lowed to do for himself. A truly strange sight those two 
represented, the rabbi bent over his books and the melamed 
crouching at his feet, his eyes riveted upon the Sage, ex- 
pecting every moment the revelation of fearful mysteries 
from the combination of the sacred letters. 

When Isaac Todros returned after sunset with great 
bunches of herbs in his hands, he found his faithful fol- 
lower squatting in a dark comer of the entrance, deep rp 
meditation. 

" Mosze ! '* called the rabbi, gliding swiftly and noise- 
lessly through the entrance. 

" What is your will. Nasi ?^* 

*'Go, Mosze, to old SauVs house and tell him that the 
Rabbi Isaac Todros will visit his house to-morrow.'* 

The little squatting figure jumped up, as if moved by 
springs, and the bare feet flew across the square towards 
Saul's house. There he crossed the porch and passage, 
and half opening the door of the sitting-room, shouted 
triumphantly, — 

*' Reb Saul ! A great joy and honor is awaiting you. 
The Rabbi Isaac Todros, the greatest Sage of the world, 
will visit your house to-morrow.'' 

From the interior of the room the voice of Saul replied : 

'^Saul Ezofovitch, his children, grandchildren, and 
great-grandchildren, will wait for the coming of Rabbi 
Isaac in joy and longing ; may he live a hundred years ! " 

'* May he live a hundred years ! " echoed the voice of 



MEIR EZOForiTCa. 



^M the melamed, and quickly disappeared, shutting the door 
^B behind him. 

^M Saul was sitting on the old-fashioned Bofa, with the 
^1 book of Zohar before him, and judging by the puzzled and 
^B distracted expression of his countenance, had not derived 
H much spiritual benefit from the reading. The melamed's 
V announcement seemed to increase his bewilderment, and 
with corrugated brow lie turned to his son Rafael, who was 
busy balancing his monthly accounts. 
" What does he want with us ?" 
Rafael shrugged his shoulders. 
" Has he any gmdge against us ? " 
BaJael lifted his head and answered, — 
" He has." 

" What gmdge can he have ? Has anybody done 
wrong ? " 

Rafael shot out the word. 
" Meir." 

Both father and son looked troubled, Isaac Todros very 
seldom visited the houses of rich people and then only, 
when he heard of any religious shortcoming. The lower 
classes came to him readily, as soon as summoned and were 
always at hia beck and call. 

Though an ascetic and scorning worldly goods. Rabbi 
Isaac by no means despised any demonstrations in his 
honor ; for this reason all the poor people, in fact all those 
who wanted to please and conciliate him, addressed him by 
the princely title of Nasi, and his passage throiigh the 
town was always the sign for more or less festive demon- 
strations. 



■ MEIR EZOFOVITCB. 87 

It wanted a few hours to midday, when Saul Ezofovitcli 
with thoughtful mien, watched a group of men croasiug 
the square. Saul's whole family, clad in their finest gar- 
meuta liad gathered together to do honor to the great 
dignitary. Amidat a gi'oup of men dresBed in black, 
walked the Rabbi ; on one side of him, the pious Jankiel, 
on the other David Kalman, one of the most prominent 
men of the town, therefore enjoying the title of moreine 
(reverend). The whole group was headed by the melamed, 
Walking backwards, his face turned towards the rabbi. 
It could not be properly called walking, it was more like a 

frantic dance accompanied by an occasional stumbling upon 

the uneven pavement. A great many children watched 

from a distance the melamed'a performance, and tried to 

imitate him, jumping, waving their arms, and filling the air 

■with noise indescribable. 

Presently, the door of Saul's sitting-room was pushed 

open and in rushed the melamed, breathless aud excited. 

His joy was quite sincere. Poor little melamed, what waa 

it after all that made him so glad ? 

" Rebi Saul," he said, panting, "the great blessing is 

approaching your house." 

Sau! gravely inclined his head ; it was not an unmixed 
blessing to him. The other members of the family were, 
on the contrary, wholly pleased and gratified at the un- 
expected honor, all except Ber, who always looked languid 
and impassive when not engaged in business transactions. 
When the rabbi had arrived as far aa the porch, his two 
satellites, Rebe Jankeil and Moreine 'KaWan, ^\A 'Oaea 

Aaaiia under hie elbowB and almost cattie4 \\\m ■Oq.to'a^ 



^P 88 M^^JR KZOFOVITCB. 

^M the paseuge to where Saul Btood on the threshold to receive 
^H his visitor, and then retired to the poruh to aifrait hia 
^1 return. 

^1 Saui bent his gray head, saying, — 
H^ " Who bows before tlis wise man, praises the greatnesa 
of the Creator." 

The choras of male and female voices repeated after 
him, — 

"Who bows before the wiae man ..." but Rabbi 
Todros raised his finger, which travelled slowly round the 
room, and then almost hissed ont, — 

" Hnsh ! " 

A deadly silence followed. The finger atill pointing at 
the congregated members of the family, he said in a com- 
manding voice, — 

"Be off!" 

Upon this there was a great rustle of dresses ; frightened. 
and disappointed faces were seen disappearing quickly 
toward the inner apartments. 

Only the two remained, tlie white-haired patriarch and 
the spare, keen-eyed sage. There was an almost threaten- 
ing look npon Saul's contracted brow, when he saw hia 
family so unceremoniously disposed of ; nevertheless, 
in an equable voice, and slightly bending bis head, he 
said : 

" Rabbi \ pray, take the seat under my roof which 
pleases yon best." 

He did not give him the title of Nasi. 

Rabbi Isaac shot a displeased look at him and sat down 
npon the sofa. His figure was not bent down any lon^r. 




JHEIR EZOFOVITCIL 80 

he sat straight and erect, his eyes fixed upon Saul, who sat 
opposite him. 

'^ I have driven them away/^ he said, pointing to the 
door. '^ Why did you bring them together ? I wanted to 
see yon.'' 

Saul was silent. 

'^ I have bad news for you,'' he said quickly: *^your 
grandson Meir has an impure soul. He is a Kofrim 
(heretic)." 

Saul remained silent, but his face twitched ominously. 

^^ He is a heretic," repeated the rabbi, in a louder tone, 
** he slanders our holy religion, has no respect for wise 
men, breaks the Sabbath, and lives in friendship with 
heretics." 

** Rabbi," began Saul. 

"You listen when I speak," interrupted the sage. 

The old man pressed his lips together, convulsively. 

" I came to tell you that you are bringing your grandson 
up badly, and that it is altogether your fault that he has 
turned out what he is. Why did you not allow the 
melamed to flog him at school, when he would not learn 
the Gemara, laughed at the teacher, and tempted the others 
to do the same ? Why did you send him to the Edomite, 
who lives amongst the gardens, to be taught reading, writ- 
ing in their language, and other abominations ! Why did 
you not punish him with your own hand, the other day, 
when he broke the Sabbath and contradicted the melamed 
at your own table ? Why do you spoil his sinful soul with 
your love and do not set him to study the holy books, and 
look upon his abominations as one struck with blindness ? " 



I 



I MEIR BZOFOVITCH. 

The rabbi wub exhausted with speaking and brcatlied 
bard. 

Rabbi," said Saul, in a subdued voice, '* do not be hard 
upon me, I could not help it. The child is the son of my 
youngest son, who died early. After the death of his 
parents, I took the child to my house and vowed he should 
never feel himself an orphan. I was then a widower my- 
self and brought him up in my arms. I nursed him and 
BO did his old groat-grandmother, who would have laid 
down her life to make him happy. He is the costliest jewel 
in her crosvn, and now that her lips are silent from great 
age, it is for him alone they will open. That is the reason, 
Rabbi, why he was indulged more than any of my other 
children, and my hand weaker with him. When the 
melamed scolded and flogged him like the other children, 
I rushed into the schoolroom, abused the melamed, and 
took the child away. It was sinful, because the melamed 
is a wise and pious man. But, Rabbi, I could not bear to 
see the bruises upon the tender skin of my eon's son. 
When I saw bruises upon the other children of my sons and 
daughters, I said nothing, because their fathers were alive, 
but when I saw them upon the orphan, my heart over- 
flowed with grief and I wept aloud and then fell into 
sin." 

" That was not yonr only sin," said the rabbi unmoved. 
" Why did you send hira to the Edomite for instruction ? " 

"Rabbi!" replied Saul, "how could he get on in the 
world without knowing the language of the country, with- 
out being able to sign his name to a check or an agreement ? 
My Bona and grandsons have immense business transactions 



B^ MKIR EZOFOVITCII. 91 

and he will have the same when he marries, and will be 
rich when he enters into his father's possessions. How 
could he transact busineas with strangers had I not sent 
him to the Edomite ? " 

"Perdition upon the Edomite and his teaching; may 
the Lord have no mercy upon him," growled the rabbi. 
" But why did you not train your grandson for the life of 
a student of the holy hooka instead of that of a merchant," 
he added after a while. 

"Eabbi!" replied Saul, "our family, the family of 
Ezofovitch have been merchants from father to son ; such 
is our custom." 

Saying this he drew himself up. The remembrance of 
his family made him bolder and prouder. But notliing 
could be compared to the scorn and fierceness with which 
the rabbi hissed out the words,— 

"The family of Ezofovitch! — The family of Ezofo- 
vitch," he added louder, "have always been like a pep- 
percorn upon the palate of Israel." 

" Eabbi 1 " he exclaimed ' ' amongst them were diamonds 
of the purest water ; the very Edomites began to hold 
Israel in respect when they came to know them," 

" In your family," said the rabbi, in a trenchant voice, 
" lurks an unclean spirit which manifests itself at various 
times in one of its members. It is written that all t]ie 
spirits which emanate from the Scphiroth have to pass 
Ibnr-Gilgul, the earthly pilgrimage. They pass from one 
human body to another, till they become purified and are 
allowed to return whence they came. He who leads a 
pious, saintly life goes back at once to the Sephiroth, and 



I 



MKIR EZOFOVITCII. 
another spirit appears to take his place. Miaerj, soitot, 
and Bin will dwell upon earth until all the spirita emanat- 
ing from the Scphiroth have accomplished their Ibur-Gil- 
gul. And how can those spirita come upon earth when 
there are so many impure spirits, who pass from one body 
to another, thereby preventing others from taking their 
place. The very Messiah is waiting ; for he cannot come 
into the world until the last spirit has been purified, and 
these impure souls delay the great day of Jobel-ha-Oader, 
the arrival of the Messiah. In your family there is such ' 
a spirit. He first entered into the body of Michael Senior, 1 
then into the body of Hersz, and he dwells now within your j 
grandson Meir. I recognized the proud and rebellious 
spirit, and therefore my heart turned away from him," 
Whilst Isaac Todros was explaining to Saul the mystery of 
the transmigration of souls, a remarkable change had 
taken place in the old man's face. The expression of 
pride and dignity had vanished altogether, he looked sad 
and humbly bent his head before the Sage. 

" Babbi ! blessings upon your head, for displaying your 
great wisdom before my eyes. Your words are true, and 
your eyes can see the spirit within the body, I will tell 
yon one thing: When my son Rafael brought little Meir 
to ray house, I took the child in my arms and kissed him, 
as he seemed to remind me of my son Benjamin ; hut the 
great-grandmother took him from me, put him on the 
floor and looked at him a long time, and then called aloud : 
' He is not like Benjamin, he is like my husband Hersz. 
Tears streamed down her face, she pressed the child to 
her heart and her lips repeated : ' Ilersz I Hersz I my 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 93 

Hersz ! He is my Kieiiieskind, the most precious jewel 
in the crown of grand, and great grandchildren, for he is 
like my husband Hersz ! ' And now when old age ha^ 
sealed her llpa and she scarcely knows anybody, she still 
recognizes him and opens her lips for him because he is 
like her husband." 

** The spirit of Michael went into the body of Hersz and 
now lives in the body of Meir ; it is a proud and rebellious 
epirit, without humility and reverence : " said the rabbi ; 
but seemingly softened by Saul's aubmisaive acqaiesceuce, 
he added, — 

'■ Why do yon not marry him, since his face is covered 
"with hair ?" 

" Rabbi ! I wanted to give him for a wife, the pious 
Jankiel's daughter, but the child threw himaelf at my feet 
and bogged me not to force him into the marriage." 

'• Why did you not put your foot upon his neck and 
make him obey you ? " 

Saul bent his head in silence. He acknowledged his 
guilt. Love for the orphaned grandson was leading him 
into sin continually. 
Todros again took the word, — 

" Marry him without delay, for it is written : when hair 
beginneth to grow upon the man's face and he be not mar- 
ried, his soul will fall into impurity. The soul of your 
grandson is already tinged with impurity ; I saw him yes- 
terday alone with a girl." 
Saul raised his troubled, questioning eyes to the speaker. 
•'I have seen him," continued the rabbi, "on the 
meadows with Abel Karaim'a granddaughter." 



r 



94 ilEIB EZOFOVITCB. 

With the Karaim'8 granddaughter ? " repeated Saul in 
a voice of horror and amazement. 

■ He stood on the verge of the pond and she gave him 
flowers ; I read in their faces the impure fire within theii 
souls. " 

" With the Karaim's daughter ?" repeated Saal, hewil- 
dered. 

" With a heretic," said the rabbi, impressively. 

•" A beggar-girl," said Saul, and raised his head energet- 
ically. 

" Rabbi, I shall deal with him differently. He must 
not be allowed to bring sliame upon my houae, throngii 
consorting with a beggar girl. I will marry him. 

"You must punish him," exclaimed the rabbi. "I 
came on purpose to bid you put your foot upon his neolc 
and break his stubborn spirit. Do not pity him ; your 
yielding to him is a sin, unpardonable in the eyes of the 
Ijord, If yon do not punish him, I will bring my riglit 
hand down and crush him like a worm, and then it will 
bring great contumely upon your house." 

Saul trembled at these words. His heart was torn by 
many conflicting feelings, a secret dislike for the rabbi 
and great reverence for his learning ; anger towards his 
grandson and a great love for him. The rabbi's threat 
worked upon the last of the feelings. 

" Rabbi," he said entreatingly, " forgive him once more, 
he is only a child. When he ia married and in business 
for himself he will be quite different. When he was bom 
his father asked whnt name he was to give the boy, and I 
wrote back, 'Let bia name be Meir,' which means 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 96 

the light, Met him be the light of our honse and of 
Israel/^' 

He could not proceed, his voice broke, and two big tears 
coursed down the furrowed face. 

The rabbi rose, and lifting his forefinger in admonition, 
" Remember what I said about putting your foot upon 
his neck and obey my orders ; for it is written, ^ The wise 
men are the salt of the earth/ Saying these last words,^ he 
moved towards the door, where Eebe Jankiel and Moreine 
Kalman stood awaiting him. They carried him across the 
passage into the street, and the same procession preceded 
by the acrobatic motions of the melamed, copied at a dis- 
tance by his scholars, moved back whence it had come. 
Saul, his face buried in his hands, remained motionless 
and silent in the sitting-room, when the door opened and 
Freida stood on the threshold. Her eyes wandered slowly 
around the room and in her tuneless whisper, she asked : — 

" Where is Meir ? '' 



^M 96 



MEIIi EZOFOriTCH. 



CHAPTEE V. 



Meib was not at home during the rabbi's visit. He had 
left home early in the morning and directed hia atepa 
toward a street farthest from the centre of the town. It 
waa a street of low, narrow houses that boasted of no more 
than two small windows at the most ; heaps of refuse and 
pools of stagnant water made the air heavy and evil smell- 
ing. Tiny threads of smoke issued from the blackened 
chinmeya, and betrayed the scanty meals prepared within ; 
here and there half-rotten palings surrounded a yard or tiny 
plot of garden with a few starved vegetable plants. Some 
women with lean and sad faces in blue caftans and faded 
wigs, were washing their coarse linen on the doorsteps, old 
women were knitting, and young girls in dirty rags and 
dishevelled hair milked the goats. In this part of the 
town lived the poorer classes ; it was the abode of poverty, 
misery, and disease. 

The houses of Ez of ovitch, Kalman, Witebski, and Kamt- 
onker, upon the central square, were palaces in comparison 
with them. There lived the merchants and the learned 
class, the aristocracy of all Jewish communities ; here lived 
the artisans who conld not boast of ancestors or stndenta 
in their fumilies, but lived from hand to mouth by what 
they conld earn. 
Though early in the day one touW bcc U^oxi.^ S\\ti Aall 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 97 

windows the busy hands of tailors and shoemakers. The 
noise of tinkers and blacksmiths came through the thin 
walls, and the presence of tallow-candle manufacturers 
made itself distinctly felt. Some of the inhabitants made 
the most of the few rays of sun and opened their windows, 
and the passer-by could see the tiny room blackened by 
smoke and dust, filled with people who almost touched the 
beams of the ceiling with their heads. Loud prayers came 
from some of the windows, mingled with shrill female 
voices and squalling children. The children which could 
move about by themselves were all in the street, dressed 
in short jackets without sleeves ; they were playing, shout- 
ing and running about ; the elder boys dressed in long 
gray garments, stood listlessly against the walls of the 
houses staring vacantly into space. Meir approached 
one of these boys. 

^* Leibele,^^ he said, ** I have come to see whether you 
are any better, and here I find you blinking like an owl at 
the sun." 

That Leibele was ill seemed evident, the child looked 
at Meir absently and drew his scanty garments close round 
his trembling limbs. 

Meir put his hand upon the child's head. 

" Did you go to school yesterday ? " 

The boy .trembled still more, and in a hoarse voice, 
said, — 

" Aha." 

That meant yes. 

" Did you get Bogged again ? " 

Tears started into the boy's eyes. 



r96 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

"Yes," lie Baid with a low aob. 
" Have you had any breakfast ?" 
The child shook his liead. 
Heir weut to the nearest stall and bought a hnge ban 
and gave it to him. Leibele took it in botli hands and 
greedily devoured it ; at the same moment, a tall, wiry 
man rushed out of the house and grasped Meir's hand, 
which be kissed fervently, and then began to reproach 
him. 
" Moreine, why did you give him a bun, he does not de- 
serve even your looking at him. He is a stupid, ohstinate 
child, that will not learn and brings shame upon na. The 
melamed, may he live a hundred years, works hard to en- 
lighten him. He flogs him at school, I flog him at home 
to drive the lessons in, and all to no purpose ; he is an idle, 
good-for-nothing donkey. 

Meir looked at the boy, who was still eating. 
"Izmul," he said, "he is not idle or obstinate, faeia 
ill." 

Izmul waved his hand scornfully. 

" III ? he only began to be ill when he was sent to school 
Ah ! what a pretty clever lad he was ! look what he is now, 
who could have expected such a misfortane ? " 

Meir still patted the shaggy mane of the idiotic-looking 
child, when Ismul again bent himself in two and kissed 
Meir's hand. 

"Moreine," he said, "you are very good to pity that 
stupid child." 

" Why do yon call me moreine, Ismnl ? " began Meir. 
^ Samuel interrupted quickly. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 99 

" Your forefathera were moreiue, bo are your graudfatiier 
and uncles, and you, Meir, will be moreine very boou," 

Meir shook his head with a queer smile and said : 

"Ismul ! I shall never be moreine, they will not bestow 
that title upon me, and I^I do not wish for it," 

Ismal thought a while, and then said hesitatingly : 

" I have heard you are not on good terms with the rabbi 
and the Oahala," 

Meir looked around as if he wanted to take in the whole 
picture of the sordid surroundings. 

" How very poor you are," was his only answer to Ismul's 
remark. 

His words had touched a sore spot. Ismul's whole frame 
trembled and his eyes were baming, 

" Ah ! and how poor we are, and the poorest of all that 
live in this street, is the ehayet (tailor) Ismul. He has a 
blind mother, a wife and eight children, and only two 
hands to support them with," and he stretched out his 
hands, the hands of a miserable outcast, so lean and dirty, 
and scarred with marks of needles and scissors. "Mo- 
reine ! " he said in a low voice, bending towards the young 
man, " it is difficult to live, everything is so dear. We 
pay government taxes for the meat we eat, for the tallow- 
candles we hum, we pay to the funeral club, to the Cahala, 
and for these miserable houses ; where can we get the 
moneys from ? It is our blood and sweat pays for it. You 
asked me once why it was we were so dirty in our house, 
why the wife was looking so thin and old, though still 
young in years ; and why the children were always ill, 
Moreine, we have no money to pay for ' koscher ' meat, and 



!lOO «S:iIt EZOFOVITCB. 



no 

^B never buy any, but live on bread and raw onions. On th^ 

V Sabbath, we only had flah when yon gave me Bome Hilver" 

coins to buy it with. We are all poor in this part of th^ 

town, but the poorest of all is the chajet (tailor) Ismul^ 

with hia blind mother, his wife and eight children." 

He shook his head sorrowfully, and looked at Meir, witb» 
large eyes, that seemed to wonder at the contemplation ocn^ ] 
his own misery. j 

Meir, with his hand still on the child's bead, looked pity -j 

ingly at the tailor, but hia brow was coatracted as if iii *^ 

pain or anger. 

"Ismul," he said softly, "how is it you are so often out— ^ 
of work ? " 

Ismul looked somewhat disconcerted, and pushed his -* 
cap at the back of his head. 

" I will tell you," continued Meir, "why you get little 
■work. Yon cut pieces from the staff they entrust you 
with and use it for yourself." 

Ismul grasped his forehead with both hands. 

" Oh, my poor head," he moaned, " moreine, your lips 
have uttered ugly words." 

He jumped into the air, bent down to the ground, then 
jumped again, and exclaimed excitedly : 

" I will open my heart before you, moreine. I did take 
pieces of the cloth ; but why did I do it ? It was to cover 
my naked children ; my mother was ill, I sold it to buy 
meat for her. Moreine, let not your eyes dwell upon poor 
lamul in anger. If I were rich like Eeb Jankiel, or Moreine 
Kalman, if I Iiad all the money they get from us. I would 
not- -steal." 



MEIR EZOFOVITf^. 101 

" And why do Eeb Jankeil and Moraine. Kalmiin take 
your money ? " said Meir absently. . , 

■■Nay 1 they are in the right, they are the -EliierB, and 
what they do must he right. Whosoever obeys tjipin obeys 
the Lord." 

A sad smile flitted over Meir's features and he put'bjff. 
hands into his pocket. Ismul followed the movement with 
greedy, glittering eyes. 

Meir put some silver coins upon the window-aill, and 
Ismnl kissed his hand fervently. 

" You are good, moreine, good to all poor people, even 
to that stupid child of mine." Here he paused, and 
coming a step nearer, he almost whispered into Meir's 
ear : 

"You are good, and the grandson of a great man. Wlio 
am I ? only a poor tailor, but I must bare my heart before 
you. Yon are doing wrong, by opposing the rabbi and 
the Cahala. Our rabbi is a great man, to whom the Lord 
reveals great things. Even the birds obey him ; he can 
heal diseases and read the people's inmost thoughts. The 
very breath of his mouth is lioly, and when he prays, his 
soul is embracing the Lord Iiimself. And yon, moroine, 
have turned jour heart from him." 

The poor tailor spoke with deep earnestnesa, and raised 
his finger to emphasize his words. 

" And the Cahala," iiecontiuued, " is composed of pious 
and wealthy people. We are hound to respect and obey 
them ; even if they do wrong, we ought to shut our eyes 
and not notice it. They will accuse you before the Lord 
and before the people. God's anger will come down upon 



102 M)S1R EZOFOVITCn. 



f 

^B you, and the 'peaiile will say you are rash and turn away 
^M from yon."-' 

^B It wonMlie difficnlt to say what impresBion Ismul's eam- 

^B est, and si: the eame time humble admonition, made upon 

■^ the yeung man. His hand still rested on the child's head, 

■lifc looked at the wasted, pretty face as if he saw in the 

- . trembling, idiotic boy, the image of Israel, eaten np by 

■ poverty and disease, but still believing and blindly sub- 



He nodded in a friendly manner to the tailor and moved 
away. Ismul ran after him a few steps. 

" Moreine ! " he called in a voice full of anguish, " do 
not be angry with me because I opened my heart to yon ; 
and oh, be wise and do not let them accuse you before the 
Lord and the people. Better to be buried fathoms deep 
than to feel their angry hand upon you." 

He retreated to his hut without noticing that Jjeibele 
had disappeared. With his handa tucked under his miser- 
able garments, the child followed the young man as far as 
the end of the street, then hesitated, as if not daring to go 
further, and in a hoarse voice, called out : 

"Moreine !" 

Meir looked round and smiled at the child, which had 
followed him. Leibele stared with meaningless eyes at 
him and then stretched forth a thin little hand and said : 

" Another bun." 

Meir looked for a stall. Along the street, stalls were 
not wanting, where pale and thin-looking women, sold 
buns hard as stones, onions, and black, sticky balla, made 
from honey and poppy-seed. He picked out a ban and 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 103 

handed it to the child^ who raised it to his mouth with 
both hands^ turned round and walked straight back. 

When Meir entered into the large square^ it seemed to 
him as if he had emerged from an abyss of darkness into 
daylight again. The sun shone bright and reflected gayly 
in the many windows. The pious Jankeil was surveying 
the erection of a new building, with an expression of great 
satisfaction. A little further on stood Moreine Kalman 
in his porch, shining in satin garments, holding a cigar in 
one hand, and with the other, patting a two-year old child 
who raised its dimpled face to him. 

In the courtyard of Ezof ovitch, there was life, and noise, 
and bustle. Two strong men were sawing trees for fire- 
wood, the children played around with sticks and branches, 
a bright servant-girl carrying water from the well, con- 
versed with the workmen ; through the open windows the 
two heads of Abram and Rafael were visible, bending over 
their account books. Sara standing before the kitchen 
hearth, and pretty Lia plaiting her hair before the looking- 
glass. 



t 



MEU: KZOFOVnCU. 



CHAPTER VI. 



When Meir entered the courtyard the men interrupted 
their work and nodded, smilingly. They came from the 
same poor street he had juat left, and knew him well. 

"Sholem Aleichem," (peace be with yon,) they called. 
ont. 

" Aleiehem Sholem," gayly answered Meir. 

" Will you not help na at our work ?" said one of them, 
pleasantly. 

" Why not ? " said Meir, and drew nearer. He liked 
the exercise, and the men were used to eee him share their 
work and liked to work with him. They were just mak- 
ing room for him when Lia's face appeared at the window. 

"Meir! Meir! where have you been, Zeide has been 
calling for you." 

It was scarcely half an hour since the rabbi had left, and 
old Saul with his head buried in his hands, was deeply 
thinking. 

Near the window sat Freida, dozing in the sun. 

A cnrioas train of thoughts was occupying the mind of 
the hale old man. He, himself, had never fully realized 
the social position of his ancestor Michael or his father, 
Hwsz : he knew they had been respected, not only by 
their own people, but also by the king and noblemen of 
the country, and he, Saul, was proud of their memory. 




MEIIi EZOFOVIWH. 105 

He dimly nnderstood that some wrong had been inflicted 
on these same members of hia family, by the house of 
Todros, hence the antagonism between their two houses. 
Being proud of hia wealth and well-kept house, he secretly 
despised Todros for his poverty and dirtiness ; but ail this 
was nothing compared to the nnbounded reTcrence he had 
for learning, and Todros was to him the very emblem of 
sacred wisdom. He himself often studied the sacred 
books, but his mind, so clear for practical purposes, could 
not follow its intricate windings, and the less he under- 
stood, the more he reverenced it, and the greater became 
his feeling of liumility and holy awe. This very humil- 
ity and religious terror made him now very wroth with 
his grandson. 

" What does he do it for ? What earthly use is it fco 
him ?" thought Saul, and looked angrily at his grandson. 

Meir entered timidly. He knew the rabbi had been 
there and guessed only too well the purport of his visit. 
He did not like to rouse his grandfather's anger, still less 
to grieve him. 

" Come nearer," called tlie old man, " nice stories about 
you have reached my eai-s," and fixing his angry eyes upon 
the youth, he said, — 

"Consider yourself pledged to Jankiel Kamionker'a 
daughter ; in two months' time you will be married." 

A long silence followed. It was Meir who interrupted 
it. 

"Zeide," he said, in a low but determined voice, "I 
will not marry Kamiouker's daughter." 

" Why ?" asked Saul, suppressing his rising anger. 



I 



and I will l 



106 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

Becanee Kamionker ie a bod man, zeidc, and 1 
not enter into any relationship with hitn." 

Saul could not contain himBelf any longer, and soundly 
rated his grandson for hie presumption, in judging hia 
elders, and praised Reh Jankiel's piousness. 

Zeide," he interrupted, "he wrongs poor people." 

"And what basineas is that of yours ?" shouted the old 
man. 

Heir's eyoB kindled. 

" Zeide," he exclaimed, "he lives upon the sweat and 
work of the poor people that live at the other end of the 
town ; through him they become thieves, their children 
starve and go naked, and he builds new houses. And in 
those inns he rents from the landowners, strange things 
are going on. Hia innkeepers make the ignorant people 
drunk ; he distils more spirits than allowed by govern- 
ment. Zeide ! do not judge by his prayers, judge by his 
deeds ; for it is written. Your prayers I will not, nor your 
burnt offerings, but whosoever oppresses the poor, offend- 
eth the Lord," 

Saul was very angry, but the quotation of his grandson, 
somewhat smoothed his rufQed spirit, as he wanted to see 
him conversant with the holy writings. 

" Bah ! what does it matter to us if Jankiel makes the 
peasants drunk or distils more spirit than allowed. You 
know nothing about business. When you marry his 
daughter and become his partner, you will do the 
same. 

" Zeide," replied Meir quietly, " I shall never distil or 
sell spirits, I have no liking for it:" 



f^ MBIH EZOFOVITCU. 107 

" Then what have you a liking for ; it seems to me yon 
have no liking for anytliiug," growled the old man. 

He had scarcely ^lished when Meir bent down and em- 
braced the old man's knees. 

■'Zeide! let me go forth into the world and study. I 
asked jou tho same two years ago, and you were angry and 
bade me stay at home. I remained, Zeide, because 1 love 
and respect jou, and your will is my law. T^et me go now. 
If I go with your consent and blessing, I shall gather 
knowledge which will enable me to stand up against 
the rabbi. I shall know, then, how to deal with him. 
Now " 

^Sanl did not allow him to proceed and called out. 
Hush!" 
The very thought of his grandson rising against the 
rabbi filled him with horror. 

Bat Meir drew himself up, and with glowing eyes, con- 
tinned, — 

"Zeide ! remember thestory of Rabbi Eleazar, When he 
was young his father would not let him go out into the 
world, and bade him till the soil ; he tilled the soil, but his 
heart was full of unspeakable longing ; and ao it is with 
me. But he could not bear it and fled from his father's 
house. He went to Jerusalem unto a wise man and said 
to him, " Let me be your disciple, and be you my teacher," 
When, some years later, his father, Hyrcanoa of name, 
came to Jerusalem, he saw a youth who stood high above 
the people on the market-place, and the people listened to 
his words which flowed like honey from his lips, and all 
the heads bowed before him, and the people called out aa 



rl08 MEIR SZOFOVITCir. I 

in one voice, ' He is oar Master.' Hjreanoe wonderei I 
mnch at the wise vords that came from the youth, and at I 
the love the people bore him. He asked a nian who stood 
near him, ' Who is the youth who stands there above the 
people, and who is his father, that I may go and bow before 
him, because he has brought forth such a son." 

The man to whom he spake thus, answered. The name 
of the youth la Eleazer, the star upon Israel's head, and i 
hia father's name is Hyrcanos. , 

When Hyrcanos heard this he called alond and went to 
the youth, to whom he opened his arms. And there was 
great joy in the hearts of father and son, and the people 
honored Hyrcanos as the father of so great a son. 

Saul listened attentively with a much brighter expression. 
Dear to him were the traditions of hie race, and more so 
when they came from the lips of his favorite grandson. 
Yet it did not make him waver in his purpose. 

'■"If sages were to be found in Jerusalem, I should send 
you there, without your asking. But the right hand of 
the Lord lies heavy upon Jerusalem ... it does not be- 
long to us, it will be onrs again in time, when the Messiah 
comes. The Israelite yearns to lay his bones there, but 
not to live there. I will not send you to strangers ; their 
knowledge is not necessary to the Israelite. Yon have 
learned as much as you want for business purposes from the 
Edoniite, and for this, even, I had to bear reproaches from 
the rabbi. These reproaches are a shame and grief to me, 
though he is a great and wise man, yet my soul suffers 
when he comes to my house, to scold me, aa the raelamed 
Bcolds his boys at school." 



HEIR EZOFOVITCH. 109 

His brow had become clouded and angry. Meir stood 
as if tamed to stone^ but his eyes were full of sadness and 
rebellion. *^ Zeide/' he said at last, '^ let me be a work- 
ing man. I will go and live with the poor people, work 
^with them and guard them from evil, and when they have 
no bread, I will share my own with them," and his eyes 
looked bright with unshed tears. 

Saul looked at him a while in speechless amazement. 
** When you are a few years older," he said at last, ^^ you 
^vrill see yourself what silly things you have been saying. 
There never has been a working man in our family, 
t:hanks to the Lord, and there never will be. We have 
iDeen merchants from father to son, and you shall be a 
:»nerchant." 

These last words he said with great decision, and then 
in a gentler tone proceeded, — 

^^ I will be lenient towards you ; if you do not wish to 
xnarry Reb Jankiel^s daughter, I will not force you. I 
shall betroth you to Eli Witebski, the great merchant's 
daughter. You wish for education, well, you shall have 
an educated wife ; she is at a boarding-school at Wilna, 
speaks French and plays upon the piano. Since you are 
so fanciful, this will be the right wife for you. She is 
sixteen years old. Her father gives her a substantial 
dowry, and to you a share in his business." 
There was an evident struggle in Meir's expression. 
^^ I do not know Witebski's daughter, I have never seen 
her," he said, gloomily. 

" And for what reason should you want to see her ? I 
give her to you,'' shouted Saul. '' She comes back in four 



I 



110 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

weeks, and two months Ijenee yon shall marry her. This 
my last word and command. I have been far too in- 
dalgent with you, but it will be different now. Isaac 
Todros told mo to put my foot upon your neck." 
All the blood rushed into Meir's face and his ejes 



" Iiet Rabbi TodroB put his foot upon the neck of those 
who lick the duat from hia feet," he exclaimed. "I 
am an Israelite, as good as he, lam (he slave of no one. 
I. . .■■- 

The words died on his qniToring lips becanse Saul, erect 
and with blazing eyes, had raised his old but still powerfnl 
arm. But it did not come down, becanse suddenly a 
small wrinkled hand came between them and laid itself 
protectingly upon Meir's breast. It was Freida'a, who bad 
been roused by the angry voices of the men from her 
somnolent attitude near the window. 

Saul's arm fell powerless to hia side, and in a softened 
voice he said, — 

" Off with you ! " 

The great grandmother went back to her seat and Meir 
left the room. His head sank upon his breoat and his brow 
clouded, he chafed at the chain of patriarchal authority 
which he could not shake off ; but the rememhraiice of 
the dear old hand which had shielded him just now, 
brought a tender smile upon his lips ; it was also a smile of 
hope. 

" If I only eonld get those writings," he mnrmured. 

He pondered over this legacy from Michael Senior hr 
his descendants of which the great grandmother knew the 




HlttsBOf noone."'— Pagell 



MBIR EZOFOriTCR. 



f JiidiEg-place ; if he could discover it he might know how 
to act, 

Sanl, heavily breathing, liad siink back on his acat. Now 
and. then he looked at his mother reverently. It seemed 
to him almost a miracle, that the mnte centenarian should 
ha,ve roused herself in order to defend her great grand- 
tshild; perhaps he felt grateful that she had stayed his 
'la-nd from violence towards his orphaned grandson. 
' " Rafael ! " he called out, after a while. 
-A. tall, grayhaired man came into the room ; he was the 
eldest, had already grandsons and was at the head of a 
la-i-ge business. As soon as he heard his father's voice, he 
*^f t his occupation and interrupted the conference with 
ills brother. 

* * Is Eli Witebski at home ? " asked Saul. 

* * He came back from a long journey yesterday, and is 
■"^^^"ting at homo," answered the son. 

* * Ijet somebody go to him afc once and tell him to come 
"^ire, as I have some business to talk over with him." 

**I will go myself," said Rafael; "I know what you 
*^nt from him, and it ought to be attended to at once. 
"*^«5ir will be in a bad way if he does not marry soon and 
^^~t. up in bnainesa for himself." 

Sanl looked at his son with troubled eyes. 
*' Do you think, Rafael, that marriage will change 
^itn?" 

Rafael nodded. 
No doubt it will. Remember Ber ; he waa going on 
lU the same way aa Meir, but when he married onr sister 
Sanii and you, father, gave him a share iu the buslncsg. 




J 



r 



lia MIER EZOFOVlTCfT. 

and children were born to him, all those foolish fannies 

went clear out of his head," 

" Go and bring WitebBki to me at once," said Saul, 
energetically. 

Rafael shortly afterward emerged from the door and 
went towards a iarge house situated at the junction of two 
of the principal streets. In the porch, reached by a flight ■ 
of BtepB, sat a stouttsh woman of about forty, very comely 
looking still, and by the expression of her face, well satis- 
fied with herself. She was dressed in ailk and wore a ■ 
quantity of gold ornaments. She raised herself when she 
saw Rafael ascending the steps, luid made an elaborate 
bow, such as was seldom seen in Szybow town, and put her 
band out to welcome the visitor. Women did not shake 
hands with men in this part of the world, and the new- 
fangled mode of greeting did not seem to the taste of the 
sedate Eafae], as lie slightly touched the pudgy hand and 
asked whether her husband were at home, 

" Yes, he came home yesterday, and is resting now," 

" I came to speak with him," said Rafael. 

"Please come in," said the woman, smiling compla- 
cently ; "he will be very glad to see you." 

Rafael only nodded in reply to this polite speech, and 
disappeared within the house. 

Mistress liana sat down again, murmuring to herself, ■ 
"Ugh! what a nation! They are downright bears and 
savages, and do not know how to address a lady." 

She sighed and shook her head. 

"It isn't what T was brought up to. At home, 
AVilna, they arc polite and educated, not like these," and 



MEIR EZOFOVITCn. 118 

she sniffed disdainfully^ then resumed her crochet-work 
and the inspection of the passers-by. 

Presently the door opened again^ and the two men 
volubly talking together, crossed the porch without taking 
any notice of the woman and went towards Ezofovitch^s 
house. 

Eli Witebski was not as tall as his companion^ with 
whom he crossed the square, and he presented an alto- 
gether different type in character, as well as in appearance. 
His coat was much shorter than Raf ael^s, and of a different 
shape. On his satin waistcoat a massive gold chain was 
visible, and on the hand with which he was wont to caress 
his short, auburn beard, glittered a big diamond. He 
walked at Raf aers side with great alacrity, evidently eager 
to respond to Saul's call, and there was not a merchant in 
or about Szybow who would not have done the same. For 
ten years Saul had left off doing business on his own ac- 
count, and never went beyond his house, except to the 
synagogue. All those who wanted advice or help from 
him, came to his house. Very often the old-fashioned 
sofa, where he sat with the sacred books before him, would 
be surrounded by grave men who came to consult him 
about some knotty point of business, or wanted his arbi- 
tration in some dispute. He shrewdly advised, and helped 
as far as he could do so without injuring his own family, 
AVhen he wanted any of them upon his own account, he 
never hesitated to send for them. 

The elegant and smiling merchant entered the room and 

greeted its owner,— 

'* Sholom Alieehem \" (peace be with you.) 
8 



114 MEIH EZOFOVITCH. 

He never used that old-fashioned greeting anywhere out 
of Szjbow, but his principles were to adapt himself to 
those with whom he lived. 

Rafael wanted to leave the room, but his father made 
him a sign to stay. They carefully closed the doors, and 
began to converse in low tones. However low their voices 
were pitched, a few sentencea reached the ear of pretty 
Lia, Kafael's daughter, whose inquisitive face wiis close to 
the keyhole. She heard the names of Mcir and Witebaki's 
daughter Mera coupled together. Then she heard her own 
name and that of Leopold, Mietress Hana's nephew. After 
that she blushed a rosy red and left the keyhole in some 
confusion, but not displeased, and stationed herself near 
the window to watch for the return of her cousin Meir. 
The sun was already setting when Witebski left the house, 
his face looked radiant and well Batiefied with the result of 
the family consultation. 

Shortly after he had gone, Meir came in. Lia rushed 
out to meet him, and, throwing her arms round hia neck, 
whispered: "Oh, Meir! I have such news for you. 
Zeide and father had a long talk with Eli Witebski, and ii 
was about us two. Witebski haa promised to you hii 
daughter Mera, and zeide and father promised my hand to 
Leopold, Mistress Hana's nephew, who lives in the world 
and is an educated man." She blushed again and dropped 
her eyes shyly, Meir loosened her arms gently, and when 
she raised her eyes he was half-way through the gate , 
already. 

"Meir!" called the girl after him, "where are you I 
going ? Will yon not come in lor aa^'geT "i " 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 



115 



The youDg man did not answer, and walked on very 
fast. He came to understand now the hoUowness of his 
remark a few hours ago : " I am the slave of no one ! " 
They had disposed of his whole life, without so much as 
consulting him. His whole soul roae in revolt against 
their resolution. Why that indignation ? He did not 
even know the girl Mera, who was acquiring somewhere 
the very knowledge he was so wishful for. He walked on 
and on till he had left the town behind, and found himself 
near the Karaite's hill. 




^Br 116 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 



CHAPTER VII. 



There waa a yellow, flickeringlight in the window of the 
little hut at the foot of the hill. The stars twinkled over 
the branches of the pear-tree, and the evening shadowB 
spreading along fhe fields. 

Inside the hut, on a heap of crusted straw, sat an old 
man who with trembling fingers picked out long stalks of 
osier. Hia figure looked like a gi-ay outline on a dark 
background, his features were invisible. Near the yellow, 
flickering candle, sat a girl, spinning wool. 

" In midst of the desert, so vast that it seemed with- 
out end, were two mountains, whose aummita were lost 
within the clouds. These mountains were Iloreb and 
Sinai — " 

Here the quavering voice broke off and the girl, who 
listened intently whilst spinning, said, — 

" Go on, zeide !" 

But at the same moment from under the open window a 
voice called softly, — 

"Gfolda!" 

The Bpinning girl seemed neither startled nor astonished 
at the voice. She seemed to have expected it, so quietly 
she went to the window ; only her eyes had grown more 
luminous and there was a tender note in her voice when 
she said,— 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 117 

" Meir. I knew you would keep your promise ! ^^ 

'' I came to you, Golda/^ said a low masculine voice, 
" because darkness is closing around me, and my heart is 
sad/' 

'' Why is it sad, Meir ? '' 

" I am in great trouble. Rabbi Isaac has accused me 
before the zeide, and zeide wants me to marry /^ 

The girl remained steady ; not a movement of her face 
or body betrayed the sudden shock, but she had grown 
very, very pale. 

" Whom does he want you to marry ? " 

*'Mera, the merchant Witebski^s daughter.^' 

Golda shook her head 

" I do not know her,^^ and then she suddenly asked, — 

** Will you marry her, Meir ? '' 

The young man did not answer, neither did the girl 
repeat the question ; a deep blush slowly mounted up to 
her brow and a look of happiness filled her eyes, which 
met those of Meir. There was no need for words. This 
deep silence was interrupted by the quavering voice of the 
old man, — 

" When Moses descended from Mount Sinai, the thun- 
der grew silent, the lightning went out and the wind 
fell ; and Israel rose like one man and called aloud, Moses, 
repeat to us the words of the Eternal. ^^ 

Meir listened attentively to the voice reciting the old, 
old history of Israel. Golda looked round at her grand- 
father. 

'' He always tells stories and I spin or sit at his feet and 
listen.*' 



118 MEIR EZOFOVITCff. 

**Meir I" she added, in her earnest voice, ''come into 
the house and speak to my grandfather ! " 

When after a few minutes the door opened gently, Ahel, 
sitting among the osier branches and busy plaiting, raised 
his head and perceived the dim outline of the young man 
in the door. 

" Who is that ? '' he asked. 

" Zeide/^ said Golda *^ Meir Ezofovitch, the grandson 
of the wealthy Saul, has come to see you.'' 

At the sound of that name, the old man rose slowly 
from the heap of straw and osier branches and his face 
became visible in the flickering light. There was not 
much of it, as it was nearly all covered with snow-white 
hair. Golda had spoken truly when she said her grand- 
father's hair was white as snow from age and his eyes like 
corals from weeping. These same faded eyes looked now 
at the intruder, first with an expression of terror, which 
suddenly changed into one of anger and hatred. 

" Ezofovitch," said the old man, in a voice less quaver- 
ing and hoarse, than before. '^Why did you cross my 
threshold, you, a Rabbinist, a foe, a persecutor ? Your 
ancestor cursed my fathers and burned their temple. Go 
forth ajid let my old eyes not be poisoned by your pres- 
ence ! " 

Saying this he raised his emaciated hand and pointed to 
the door. 

Meir came slowly nearer, and bowing low before the 
angry old man said, — 

'^ Peace be with you." 

At the sound of the sweet voice and the words which 



1. 

™i6o] 



MEin EZOFOVITCn. 119 

contained s, blessing and a prayer for peace, the old man 
grew silent and sat down on his former place. After a 
while, in a leas angry bnt rather sorrowful voice, he said,^ — 

" Why did yon come here ? You are a Rabbinist, a 
descendant of the mighty Senior. They will excommuni- 
cate yon for coming here to my house, for I am the last 
of the Karaites, who remained here to guard the rnins of 
the temple and the aahcH of my forefathors. I am a 
wretched outcast, cursed by your people ; I am the last of 
the Karaites." 

Meir listened respectfully to the words of the old man. 

" Rebe ! " ho said " I came to you in order that justice 
might be done. The descendant of him who cursed your 
forefathers bends low before the descendant of the wronged 
people." 

Abel Karaim seemed to drink in the words, over which 
he pondered in silence. 

At last he whispered, — 
with you." 

Golda stood with lier hands crossed over her breast and 

iked at Meir, as pilgrims look at the holy shrine. Wlien 
flhe heard the peaceful words of the grandfather, she offered 
a seat to the young man, and taking a bright pitcher in 
her hand went into the entrance. Meir sat down opposite 
the old man, who had taken np his work and was murmur- 
ing to himself. By degrees his voice grew louder, and 
more qnavering. 

It wafl Abel's occupation to tell stories, his head and 
heart were fall of them, and tliey brightened his miserable 
life. 



f 



120 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

Jlyir did not catch the Brat aentonces uiitil his voice 
grew louder, — 

" By the rivere of Babylon they eat and wept, and the wind 
wept in the atrings o£ tiieir harps which they had brought 
from their land and hanged upon the willow-trees. And 
Btrangera came to them and aaid, ' Take down your harps 
and play and sing to us the aongs of Zion.' And they an- 
swered : ' How ahall we aing the Jjord's song in a strange 
land, when our mowth is dried up in great bitterness. 
And the men aaid again, ' Play and aing to ua." And the 
prophets said to each other : ' How ahall we withstand their 
tortures and make our right hand forget its cunning?' 
And when the day after the strangers returned, and said, 
'Play iinto us and aing.' The prophets raised their blood- 
gtained hands and cried out, ' How can we take down the 
harps when our hands are cut in two and we have no 
fingers ! ' 

" The rivers of Babylon murmured louder in great won- 
der, and the wind moaned within the harps that hung upon 
the willow-trees, for the prophets of Israel had cut their 
hands in two, so that they ahoiild not be forced to sing 
and play in captivity I " 

When Abel had finished the last words of this old legend, 
Golda entered the room. In one hand she carried ii 
plaited mat with two earthenware cups, in the other a 
pitcher full of foaming milk. In the open door stood the 
white goat, sharply defined upou the dark shadow of the 
lobby. The girl in the faded gown and gracefully poiaeil 
head, poured the milk into the en ps and handed one to the 

iman and the other to Meir. She moved silently about 



i 



MEIR EZOFOVITCIL 121 

the little room, a dreamy smile upon her lips, and then sat 
down and began to spin. Perfect silence prevailed around. 
Old Abel in a low whisper commenced one of his stories ; 
but his head sank upon his breast and his hand lay mo- 
tionless on the osier branches. The goat disappeared from 
the threshold, she made a slight rustle in the lobby and 
then everything was quiet. The young people were alone 
with the sleeping old man and the stars, which twinkled 
through the window. She was spinning, and her eyes 
looked at the young man, who was deep in thought. 

'* Golda ! '' he said at last, '' the prophets who cut their 
hands so as not to sing and play in captivity, were great 
men ! '^ 

^^ They did not want to do anything against their con- 
science,^^ said the girl earnestly. 

They were again silent. The spindle in Golda^s hands 
moved slower and more silently. Through the chinks in 
the wall, the evening breeze entered and made the light 
flicker. 

^' Golda ! '' said Meir, " are you not afraid to be alone 
at nights, when the autumn and the winter's darkness is 
around and the wind howls and whistles through the 
walls.'' 

^* No," replied the girl, "I am not afraid, for the Lord 
protects poor, lonely huts; and when the wind howls 
I listen to zeide's beautiful stories and do not heed it." 

Meir's eyes, full of sympathy and pity, looked at the 
child. 

" Golda ! " said Meir again, ^^ do you remember the story 
of Rabbi Akiba?" 



122 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

'*I shall not forget it through all my life/' she re- 
plied. 

" Golda ! could you, like Rachel, wait fourteen years ? " 

" I could wait all my life/' she said simply ; but the 
spindle slipped from her trembling hands. 

'^ Meir ! ^' she said in a low voice, " promise me one 
thing. Whenever you feel sad in your grandfather's house, 
come to us ; let me know you are sad and zeide shall com- 
fort you with his beautiful stories." 

*^ Golda!'' he said in a powerful voice, "I, like the 
prophets of Israel, will cut my hands sooner than act against 
my conscience." 

Saying this, he got up, and bending his head he said, — 

" Peace be with you ! " 

" Peace be with you ! " replied the girl in a low voice. 

After he had left the hut, the girl extinguished the 
candle, wrapped herself up in a gray blanket and lay down 
upon the straw at the feet of her grandfather. Not to 
sleep yet, because her eyes looked for a long while at the 
stars which twinkled through the window. 




MEIR SZOFOVlTCn. 



CHAPTER VIII. 



J 



Eli "Witebski possesBed to a great extent the gift of di- 
plomacy. Unlike all the other inhabitants of the town he 
had neither been born nor brought up there ; buaineas and 
other family aftairs had induced him to take np his abode 
in Szybow, where he camB as a stranger amongst people 
who had known each other for generations. Besides this 
drawback, Eli, who had formerly lived in a large town, had 
the disadvantage to be different from the other iniiabit- 
ants, his coat was much shorter, so was his beard, and he 
wore a gold chain and diamond ring ; his wife was nnlike 
all the other wives in town, his daughter was at a board- 
ing school, and besides her he had only two other children 
for his whole family. In the usual course of things any 
of thrae new-fangled notions would have been sufficient 
to set public opinion against him. 

But it did not. There was a little muttering against 
him in the beginning, they called him misnagdim, progres- 
sist, indifEerentist, but the murmurs gradually died away, 
owing to the genial manners and subtle tact of the mer- 
chant. He was always polite, gave way to everybody, 
acknowledged everything, and kept carefully aloof from 
people engaged in discussions or quarrels, so as not to be 
obliged to take either side ; when he could not avoid it, 
he spoke so persuasively and guardedly that as often as 



f 



V24 MBin KZOFOVITCII. 

not lie reconciled the differing parties and earned the 
gratitude of both sides. As to the manifold customs and 
religious ceremonies, he was strictly orthodox. He kept 
the Sabbath and observed all the restrictions as to food. 
Whenever he met the great rabbi, he bowed low before 
him, and achieved a greater success than anybody else, for 
he made the gloomy ascetic smile ; he had always some 
anecdotes and clever speeches at hand, with a mystic or 
patriotic ilavor, which pleased the most austere of his list- 
eners. He did not spend much time at home, but mostly 
travelled about his businesB, but whenever he happened to 
be in town, never failed to make his appearance at Bet-ha 
Midraah, and listened attentively to Eabbi Todros' leasona 
and the learned discnasions upon the commentaries of the 
Hagada. Gemara, and Halacha. 

He was always found at the sjTiagogTie when others were 
there, and though he did not pray, like many others, with 
all the strength of lung and body, yet always preserved a 
reverential attitude. 

We must not suppose that Witebaki was a hypocrite, 
far from it, but he liked peace and did not wish to disturb 
either his own, or that of other people. Things had gone 
well with him in life, he was happy and contented, and 
liked people ; it was perfectly indifEerent to him whether 
they were Talmudists, Cabulists, true -believers or heretics, 
even Edomites, provided they did not injure him person- 
ally. He had never heard of Edomites before he came to 
Szybow ; sometimes, when angry, he had spoken of them 
as goima,* but mostly called them simply Christ: 
All who do not believe in the Jewiah religion. 



i 



1^ MEIB EZOFOVITCn. 1*25 

Catholics. When he heard them spoken of as Edomitee, 
he shnigged his shoulders and thought, well ! let them be 
Edomites ; but he had no ill-feeling towards them, they 
had done him no harm, why should he not like them ? 
Out of Szybow, he knew a great mjiny, and had a sincere 
hking for some ; but at Szybow he was a Szybowite. 

He had received a religious education when young, but 
the bustle of the world had driven most of it out of his 
head. He sincerely believed in Jehovah, knew something 
about Moses and the captivity and modern Jewish history, 
hut as to the deeper and subtler definitions, he knew abso- 
lutely nothing, and cared less. He did what the law com- 
manded, saying to himself, ■' Maybe it is all the people's 
invention, but maybe they are the Lord's commands, why 
should I offend Him ? " 

Thus diplomatizing with God and the world, he feared 
nothing, and everything prospered with him. His path 
would have been altogether smooth had he not brought 
with him that most astonishing product of civilization, his 
wife. Mistress Hana. However hard he tried to adapt 
himself to local customs, his wife wanted to subverse every- 
thing. Whilst living in a larger town, there had been 
entire harmony between these two, at S^ybow, she was to 
him a source of continual trouble and apprehension. 
Mistress Hana adored civilization, which meant to her fine 
clothes, pretty furniture, the French language, polite in- 
tercourse with people, and music. She loved music. 
Whilst living in a large town, she frequented public con- 
certs and walked about with her friends in rustling silk 
, looked at the ci'owds and was perfectly happy. 



126 MKlIi EZOFOVITCU. 



^V 126 

^V Once she saw a foaiitain in a public park, at wbich she 
^H looked for hours in speechless delight, and when she re- 
^M tamed to her own town, which did not boast of any such 
H distinction, she told her friends about the splendid sight 
^B for a whole year. 

^1 Looking-glasses had a special attraction for her., and 

^H whenever she came near one, she looked coniplacently at 
" her own reflection. As to the philosophy of life or religion, 
she knew even less than her husband. She believed in 
God, and in the depth of her heart was terribly afraid of 
Him ; she believed also in evil spirits, of whom she was still 
more afraid ; she also believed that he who could not see 
his shadow on the Sabbath night would surely die in the 
course of the year, and whosoever removed a candle from 
the Sabbath table brought ill-luck upon himself. On the 
other side, many things she did not believe in and called 
them vulgar superstitions. Being a careful housekeeper, 
she thought it would be better and cheaper if she could 
buy her meat from any ordinary butcher, and that the 
great amount of kitchen utensils kept by the true Israolite, 
was a troublesome custom. As to the law against wearing 
apparel of mixed textures. Mistress Hana shut hor eyes 
and ears to all remonstrances and said they were cheaper 
and prettier. 

She was horrified at the first sight of Szybow. Xo public 
gardens, uo fountains, no society, or any trace of civiliza- 
tion. Oh, horror ! she took to her bed and lay between 
the feathers for two nights and days, crying and bewailing 
her fate and that of her children, who were to be left 
orphans, as she wiis sure to die. However, she did not 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 127 

die, and presently got up and began to unpack her furni- 
ture, arrange the house, and dress the children to show 
them to the natives, who never in their life had seen any- 
thing so beautiful. The children went out, were stared 
at and admired. This was the first crumb of comfort 
picked up by the exile from civilized worlds. By-and-by 
she picked up some more in a like manner. She astonished 
and amazed the inhabitants by her furniture, and her way 
of speaking, and whenever she became aware of it, she felt 
exquisitely happy. She was much happier than she ever 
had been before, had she but known it. In the world, 
she looked at civilization, was but a unit of the vast crowd, 
here she was civilization itself, the only one Szybow had 
ever known. 

The astonishment of the people, which filled Hana's 
mind with joy, was a source of apprehension to her hus- 
band. He heard the mutterings of discontent. The pub- 
lic were shocked at his wife wearing mixed textures, of 
having the samovar (tea-urn) prepared on the Sabbath, 
and of having been heard to say that the inhabitants of 
Szybow were savages dwelling in caves. Eli began to de- 
clare war against his better half. The diplomatic hus- 
band, after a while, conquered as far as the samovar and 
mixed textures were concerned, but she would not retract 
her opinion about the natives of the town, and if she did 
not speak of them as savages, she could not help showing 
it in her manners. 

Taking all in all. Mistress Hana was perfectly happy 
with her good-natured, though not always yielding, hus- 
band, her pretty, well-dressed children, and in the antici- 



128 



XEIR EZOFOVITCH. 



pation of the general astonishment her daughter Men 
would excite in the town. Eli did not share these joyful 
atiticipstioQa, bnt was secretly afraid of what others would 
say of her. 




MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 129 



CHAPTER IX. 

The great event had at last arrived. A month after the 
consultation in SauFs house, a party of five people were 
gathered in Mistress Hana's drawing-room, three women 
and two men. And it was no mean drawing-room. There 
was a sofa on springs covered with green rep, the only 
one in the whole town, chairs and easy-chairs to match, 
and a piano. The latter had seen better days, and be- 
trayed very ancient worksmanship. It had been bought a 
year ago for Mera^s exclusive use, and its arrival caused 
such a commotion in the little town as to fill the lady's 
heart with great pride. Curtains adorned the windows, 
and a few dusty cacti and straggling geraniums completed 
the arrangement. It happened once that one of the cacti 
came into flower, and Mistress Hana put it in the window, 
where the children in the street stared for hours at the 
great red blossom. 

On the sofa sat the mistress of the house with her sister, 
a merchant's wife from Wilna, at whose house Mera had 
been staying whilst completing her education. She had 
accompanied the girl home, bringing at the same time her 
son Leopold. Like Mistress Hana, phe was in silk and 
velvet, with a profusion of ornaments, but wore her own 
hair, instead of a wig. Opposite the sofa sat the head of 
the family and his wife's nephew Leopold. Mera, a pretty, 



r 



liano ; she ) 



130 MEIR EZOFOVITCB. 

fair-hairail girl, moved restle^lj abont the piano ; she 

Toald have liked to play, bat did not dare to do so with 

her father'a eye apon her. On the Sabbath playing is 
not allowed ; neither is smoking. Nevertheless. Leopold, 
a handsome, slender youth of abont twenty, indulged 
in cigarettes, the smoke of which curled above his head 
and wafted throngh the open window into the street. Eli 
rose and closed tlie window. A disdainful smile curled 
upon the young man's lips, Mera slightly shrugged her 
shoulders, and Mrs. Hana grew very red. On the table, 
upon a silver tray, stood wine, cakes and comfits, which, 
together with fish, fried the day before, had ser\"ed them for 
dinner. Mistress Rana politely urged her guests to eat ; 
but her sister was engaged in a far more absorbing occupa- 
tion and paid no heed to her entreaties. She was investi- 
gating the contents of boxes lined with velvet, and drew 
forth, one after the other, bracelets, earrings and brooches 
sot with diamonds and pearls. They were the betrothal 
gifts, which Saul had sent in his grandson's name the day 
after their arrival. For two days mother and aunt had 
feasted their eyes upon the jewels, though Leopold's mother 
felt inwardly rnfiled that her son had brought nothing so 
beautiful for his future wife Lia, 

"Well, she is a happy girl, and the Lord is good in 
giving her such a rich husband. But why does he not 
come to see her ? " questioned the sister. 

" Bah ! they are uneducated people, and their custom 
is that engaged people do not see each other," replied Mrs. 
Hana scomfuny, 

" He is young and bashful," interpolated Eli. 




MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 131 

Mera looked thoughtful, Leopold laughed aloud. 

" I shall certainly not send any presents till I see the 

girl/^ 

" Oh, you will see her fast enough," replied Eli ; "we 
shall go to their house to-day." 

"What kind of a girl is she?" asked Leopold's 
mother. 

" Quite simple and uneducated," replied the sister. 

" Her father Rafael gives fifteen thousand roubles with 
her," said Eli. 

"Not much good that is to me. I cannot live upon 
the interest of fifteen thousand roubles," said Leopold, 
frowning. 

" It is enough to give you a start in business." 

" Business ! " said the mother, shrilly ; " my son has not 
been brought up to business. He has finished his educa- 
tion, and is now a government official. His salary is small 
as yet ; but who knows to what high position he may not 



arrive." 



Leopold raised his eyebrows and looked conscious of all 
the dignities his mother expected for him. 

Eli smiled indulgently. "What does it matter," he 
thought, "that they talk nonsense ; let them talk." 

Presently Mera raised her pretty head and said to her 
cousin, " Cousin ! comme c^est ennuyant ici ? " 

" Oui, cousine, cette vilaine petite ville est une place 
trSs ennuyante," he replied, puffing up his lips. 

The mothers who did not understand a word looked at 
each other with a radiant smile, and Mistress Hana 
stretched her hand out and patted her daughter's head. 




f 

^V £veu Eli'i face, which bore the eigns of inward misgiviDgs, 
^1 brightened ap ; he rose and called out gayly,— 
^1 " It is about time for us to start ! " 
^1 A few minuteB later they all were ready to descend from 
^P the steps of tho porch iuto the street. Eli again looked 
H troubled. Nothing could be less ortbodos than the dress 
^P of the young man, which consisted of a fashionable cut- 
^1 away coat, a waistcoat displaying a great expanse of white 
^1 linen and patent-leather boote. His head was covered with 
^P a cap hearing the government badge, a silver stripe, and a 
star in front. Before he left the liouse he had lit another 
cigarette. It was altogether against Eli's principles to 
find fault with anybody, especially with a guest under hia 
own roof and the son and nephew of the two splendid 
women of whom he felt very proud. Upon entering 
into the porch, he looked at the street where people 
walked about in crowds and he could not help remon- 
strating. 

" Listen, Leopold," he said, gently, "throw away that 
cigarette, people are stupid here, wJiat is the use of rousing 
their ill feeling ? besides," he added " maybe the Lord for- 
bids smoking on the Sabbath, who knows ? " 
Leopold laughed. 

" I am not afraid, ' he said, and nimbly running down 
the steps, ho offered his arm to Mera. The mothers fol- 
lowed, resplendent in their silks and flowery bonnets, Eli, 
his hands behind his back, brought up the rear. If attract- 
ing the attention of a crowd can bo called a triumph, the 
passage across tlie square of Eli Witebski's family was 
deed a triumphal march. A whole crowd of children of 



■ MEIR KZOFOVircll. 133 

all ages followed in their wake ; their low csclaniationa 
iucreasing gradually to shouts and noise uiidescribable. 

Some grown-np people swelled their ranks, whilst the 
more respectable families looked at the bIiow from their ' 
porches. At the school door, stood the melamed in his 
usual garment and stared with wide-open eyes at the iin- 
usual sight. Leopold in his fashionable dress and cigarette 
between his lips, and Mera in her showy dress, bridling on 
his arm to show off her superior breeding were the cyno- 
sure of ail eyes. 

" See ! see ! the pretty young lady, the handsome gentle- 
man," shouted the children. 

"Who are they ? Surely not Israelites," said some of 
the elder people, pointing at Leopold's cigarette. 

" Misnagdin ! " {sinner) suddenly somebody yelled iu the 
crowd, and a small stone whizzed past Leopold's head. 
The young man changed color and threw the otfeosive 
cigarette away. Eli frowned. Mistress Hana drew her- 
self up and said aloud to her sister,^ 

""We must make allowances for them, they are only low 
people. " Leopold did not look as if he were inclined to make 
any allowances ; his eyes still . looked frightened and his 
lips were pressed close together when they entered into 
Ezofovitch's aitting-room. 

There, in place of honor, sat old Saul suiTouiided by his 
numerous family. Near one of the windows sat the great 
grandmother, Meir stood leaning against the other. When 
the visitors entered the room, he only glaucedat Mera, she 
did not interest him in the least, hut \vva \o'tt.^"a.% wj^* 
rested upon Leopokl. Him he wished to aee «q.& ■«?«a^ 



i 



134 MEIR EZOFOriTCB. 

¥fiih, who had lived in the world and knew about all those 
things that occupied Meir's thoughts. 

The noisy and effasive greetings lasted for some time. 
Saul did not leave his place, his daughter Sara, Ber's wife, 
did the honors of the house, offering refreshments to the 
visitors, loudly praising and admiring at the same time, the 
heauty of their dresses. 

Mora sat down gracefully on the edge of a wooden chair 
near the timid, but delighted I^ia, and stole now and then 
a look at the young man near the window, but without 
oncje meeting his eyes. Meir seemed to ignore her presence 
altogeth(?r, his whole attention fixed upon Leopold. 

MlHtrcHS liana entertained the company with a lively 
<l(JH(jriptioii of town pleasures, concerts, public gardens, and 
above all of the beautiful fountain, whilst her eyes were 
roaming about the room, which, with the massive table in 
iho middhs its old-fashioned sofa and wooden chairs looked 
far l)ott(5r than Mistress Ilana^s tasteless arrangements. 
On one side of the wall there was a large bookcase with 
glazed doors full of old volumes, which had belonged to 
Mi(!hael Senior ; on the other, a glazed cupboard full of 
<^hina surmounted by a huge samovar which shone like burn- 
ished gold. Mistress liana reddened with vexation. A 
samovar in her future son-in-law's drawing-room ! it was 
against all her notions of propriety. Presently her eyes 
f(^ll upon the dozing great grandmother, whose diamonds 
sparkled in all the colors of the rainbow, and the pearls 
gliatoned with a rosy sheen upon them. 

She nudged her sister's arm. 

•* Look there,'' she whispered. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCII. 135 

The merchantess from Wilna, liiilf shut licr oyes its if 
dazzled bj the sight. 

" Good Lord ! " slie called out, " what treasurea ! but 
what good ai-e they upon an old woman, what use to her ?" 

Old Saul heard the exclamation and politely inclining 
his head towards hia guests, he said,^ 

" She deserves to be shown tlie greatest respect and to 
be adorned with the moat costly the house possesses; 
because we have sprung from her like the branches spring 
from a tree. He half shut hia eyes and swaying his head 
gently, continued ; she is very old now, hut once was 
young and very beautiful." 

" ' Where is her beanty ? ' Years and months, like a 
flight of birds, have passed over her and plucked berry 
after berry from the tree once so stately, tilt none are left. 
Her face ia wrinkled ; but whence came those wrinkles ? 
I know, for I see a picture in each of them. When I look 
at the wrinkles upon her eyelids, I remember my illness as 
a child, and she sitting near my bed night and duy singing 
me to sleep, whilst tears streamed out of tliose eyes. 
When I see the wrinkles on her cheek, I think of her 
troubles as a widow, refusing to be married again, attending 
to the business herself and accumulating wealth for her 
children. In that deep furrow upon her forehead I see the 
deathbed of my father, and she, hia wife, lying almost life- 
less on the floor, not crying or weeping, bnt sighing softly: 
* Hersz ! Heraz 1 my Heraz ! ' This was the greatest 
grief she ever had in her life, hence the deepest furrow on 
her forehead." 

Thus spoke old Saul, with his finger raised in emphasis 



[ 



186 MKIR FznroriTCH. 

and a pensive smile opou hia colorless lips. The listening " 
women shook their heads half sadly half sympathetically. 
Mistress Hana was so moved and entranced that tears hnng 
npon her eydaahea, which she dried with a thin camhric 
handkerchief she was holding in her hand whilst she 
pressed Saul's hand with the other. "Thanks! thanks! 
thank you," she said with a gratefiil smile. "Thanks I 
repeated the others in auhdned voices, amongst them, the 
merchant's wife from Wilna. " Ein klnger Menseh, ein 
ehrlicher Menseh ! " (a wise man, an honest man !) they 
murmured, 

Saul's simple tale of filial love ha<i atrnck a sympathetic 
chord in all those present. 

Only young Leopold, who had conversed with Mera in. 
an nndertone, looked hored and discontented. After a 
while he rose and approached the window, where Meir' 
stood. The conversation round the old-fashioned sofa 
reverted to trivial topics again. Mistress Hana oxpreBsing 
her regret that her daughter Mera could not play to them,, 
as there was no piano. , 

It was evident Ijeopold had not moved towards the win-' 
dow with the intention of making Mei/s acquaintance, 
but from another motive revealed from his drawing forth 
his cigarette case. When Meir saw him approaching, he 
met him eagerly and stretching out his hand, said, — , 

"I am Meir, Saul's grandson, and have wished for a< 
long time to meet you and talk with you," 

Leopold bowed ceremonionaly and slightly touched the 
young man's hand, whose face visibly saddened, 

"You are not eager to know me, and I am not snr- 



MEIR EZOFOVITCIL 137 

prised at it. You are an educated man, with all the 
advantages of learning and I-^I am only a common Jew, 
who knows the Bible and Talmud, but nothing else ; but 
I have many thoughts ; they are all dim and undefined ; 
perhaps you will help me to clear them up/' 

Leopold listened to this humble youthful speech with an 
ironical smile. 

'• If I can help you in any way, Mr. Meir, I shall be 
glad.'' 

" Leopold ! do not call me mister. It hurts me, because 
I like you very much." 

Leopold looked with astonished eyes at the young man. 

"I am much obliged," he said ; "but we scarcely know 
each other." 

" That is nothing," said Meir. " I have longed to meet 
an Israelite like you, that I might say, as Kabbi Eliezer 
said to the sage of Jerusalem, Let me be your disciple, 
and be you my teacher." 

The young worldling looked with open-eyed astonish- 
ment and a sarcastic smile at Meir, who seemed to him as 
unintelligible as an untrained savage. 

Meir, carried away by his enthusiasm, did not notice 
this. 

" Leopold," he began, " how long did you study at the 
foreign schools ? " 

" What do you mean by foreign schools ? " asked 
Leopold. 

" Why ! the schools where they teach things not Jewish." 

Leopold understood. He half shut his eyes and looked 
supercilious. 



5I 



*188 MEIR EZOFOYlTCn. 

" If you mean the gymimsium, I studied there 
years." 

"Five years !" exclaimed Meir, "how learned yo« — « 
must be." 

" Hm ! there are people in the world more learned thairr^^i 
I," and he smiled indulgently. 

Meir drew a little nearer his companion, and his eye^s =3 
sparkled. 

"And what do they teach at the gymnaaium ?" 1 

" Ob, all Borta of tbinga," said Leopold) impatiently. I 

" What things ? " persisted Meir. 

Leopold, with an ironical smile, began to enumerate tht^ ->* 
different branches of science tanght at schools. 

Meir interrupted him excitedly, — 

"And yon know all theae sciences ?" 

" Of course, I do," replied the guest. 

*' And what do you do with all that learning ?" 

This question put with eager curiosity, amazed the hand — ■ 
Bome lad. 

" What do you mean by what I do with it ? " 

"I wanted to know what ideas all that learning" 
awakens in your brain and the use you make of it in the 
world ! " 

" Oh ! what I do in the world ? I am in a government 
office and copy important documents." 

Meir thought a little. 

"No, that is not what I mean. You do that for yonr 
liring ; everybody has to work for his living. I meant 
what do you do besides ? how do you work out yonr ideas 
in the worhl ? what ure your thoughts about the world ?" 




MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 139 

Leopold opened his eyes widur, and iiuBwtrud impa- 
tiently, — 

"Of what should I think? When I retnm from the 
office I sit at home aud smoke cigarettes, aiid think that 
when I marry, and my father gives me my share of his prop- 
erty I shall buy a house and arrange the first floor into 
beautiful shops, let the second to rich people and live 
myself on the third. I have my eye upon a beautiful 
house, I should like to buy. It brings in two thousand 
roubles a year without the outbuildings — " 

It was Meir's tarn to look astonished. 

"And you do not think of anything besides that 
boose I" 

*' No. What should I think about ? I have no troubles 
on my mind ; I live with my parents, and the salary I re- 
ceive is sufficient to pay for my clothes and other little 

Meir looked fixedly on the floor. There was a frown ou 
his forehead which had not been there before. 

" Listen, Leopold," he said, after thinking a little, " In 
that great town of yours are there no poor and benighted 
Jews ? " 

Leopold laughed. 

" They are everywhere and in great numbers." 

"And what do you think of them?" asked Meir, 
eagerly. 

"Think of them ? I think they are very stupid, and 
very dirty." 

"And you look at them and think nothing else ? " said 
Meir almost in a whisper. 



I 



140 MKIR EZUFOVITCII. 

Luopold opened his cigarette case aud took out a ciga- 
rette. 

Meir, deep in thought, took no notioe. 

" Leopold," ho began, with rekindled energy, " do not 
buy that house in town." 

" Why Bhould I not buy it ? " 

"I will tell you why. They promised my cousin to 
you, who is a good and intelligent girl. She has no educa- 
tion, but wislies for it and was rejoiced to hear elie should 
marry an educated man. When you marry her, ask the 
great officials to grant you pormiasion to open a school 
here, at Rzyhow, wliere young men could be taught other 
things besides the Talmud and the Tora. You yourself 
would be at the head of the school, and I might help yon 
in time if you will teach me." 

Leopold laughed, but Meir, carried away by hie owu en- 
thusiastic thoughts, did not perceive it and bent towards 
his companion, whispered im])reBBively, — 

'■ I tell you, Leopold, the people in this town are dread- 
fully benighted and desperately poor ; but there are young 
people, like me, who sorrow because they do not know 
anything. They would like to learn, but there is nobody 
to teach them. There is the great Rabbi Todros, who 
holds them in clieck, and the elders of the Cahala who 
oppress the poor. If you came here and brought with you 
enlightened men, you would help us all to come out of 
misery and benightedness." 

He said all this with glowing face and rapid voice. But 
nothing could compare to the expression of astoniahment 
and sarcasm with which Leopold listened to the proposal. 



MEIR KZOFOVITCU. 141 

He took a match out of a silver box Jiiid bent his liead to 
conceal his laughter. 

" Well," said Meir, "what do yoa think of it ? is it not 
a good plan ? " 

Leopold struck his match at the side of the box and 
said, — 

■" I think that when I tell it to my family and the fellows 
at the office they will be greatly amused." 

The fire went suddenly out of Meir's eyes. 

" What is there to be amused at ?" 

Leopold had lit his cigarette, and the curling smoke 
wafted over the room and reached old Saul's noBtrils. 
Rafael raised his head and looked around in astonishment. 
Saul looked in the direction of the window, and half raised 
himself from the sofa, — 

" I beg your pardon," he said politely, but decidedly. "I 
do not allow people under my roof to trangresa the law." 

Saying this he quietly sat down again, but looked at 
Leopold from under his sliaggj- eyebrows. Leopold, grown 
very red, threw down his cigarette and angrily put liis foot 
on it. 

" There, you see the politeness of your people," he said. 

" But why do you smoke on the Sabbath ? " 

"And you ? do you not smoke on the Sabbath," asked 
the guest, with a sneer on his lips, 

" No, I do not," replied Meir with decision. 

"And yet you want to enlighten the maaaes, and believe 
the law forbids smoking on the Sabbath." 

" I have left ofE believing in that long ago," said Meir. 

" You want the people to stand up against the authority 



142 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

of the rabbi and Cahala^ yet submit meekly to their tyi 
nous and minute prescriptions." 

Meir^s eyes shone again^ but in anger and indignatic on. 

" If it were a matter of saving a human soul from da^cr-t- 
ness or a human body from misery, I should not yield, ■be- 
cause these are important things ; but if it be a question of 
pleasing myself, I yield ; ifc would be stupid not to do so. I 
do not believe the law comes from God, but the elders dL o, 
and it seems to me whosoever goes against them in su. ^^^h 
insignificant things commits a breach of good manners.' "" 

Leopold, after having listened to this speech turned l^^is 

• 

back upon him and went to where Mera was sitting. M^^^^ 
looked after him with eyes full of sadness and disappoirr:^*- 
ment, then left the window and went swiftly out of t ^3ie 
room. 

The disappearance of the young man seemed to depr^^^^ 
the convivial gathering, at least the female element. T ^^® 
men did not heed it, to them it seemed natural and prai^^^' 
worthy that the young man should be bashful in the pr^^^- 
ence of his fiancee, but the merchant's wife, from Will*- ^f 
and Mistress Hana, became visibly sulky, and Mera puU^^^ 
her mother's gown and whispered, — 

" Maman ! let us go home/' 



MEIB EZOFOVITCH. 143 



CHAPTER X. 

Ix the meanwhile Meir went swiftly towards the dwell- 
ing of his friend Eliezer, but only to look tlirough the win- 
dow, seeing the little room empty he bent his steps in the 
direction of the meadow. 

Like some weeks before, the little green oasis was bathed 
in the rosy light of the evening sun, but the grass which 
had lost its bright emerald color under the scorching heat, 
was not less beautiful because of the profusion of wild 
flowers, that filled the air with sweet perfume. 

Close to the birchwood either sat or were stretched out 
at full length, several young men. Some conversed in low 
tones, others mechanically pulled up flowers and tall 
grasses, one or two looked at the golden clouds, singing 
softly. A little farther away, near the pond, half hidden 
by branches and tall grasses, sat a slender girl with a coral 
necklace round her dark throat, at her side the white goat 
nibbled at the grass. 

Meir went swiftly towards the young men, who had 
evidently expected him, because all jumped up and fixed 
their eyes upon him. He did not look at any of them, and 
without greeting them by word or smile, as was his wont, 
sat down upon the fallen trunk. The young men looked 
at him in mute astonishment. Eliezei ^\\.o \vai&L ^^^^^ 
himself nearest^ wfi^ the first to ask, — 



r 



144 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

" Well ? have you Been him ? '' 

"Have you Bseu him? "they repeatijd simultaneously. 
" What ia he like ? Is he very learned and wise ? " 
Meir raised his head and exclaimed angrily,— 
" He may be learned, hut he ia not wise '. " 
This outburst struck hia friends dumb with astonish- 
ment. After a short silence, Ariel, the magnificent Mo- 
reiiie Kalman's son, said pensively, — 

" How ia it possible, tliat u learned man shonld not be 

" I do not know," said Meir, and his eyes opened wide aa 
if he saw a terrible, Unfathomable precipice before his eyes. 

A conversation full of quick interrogation and short an- 
swers followed. I 

'* What did he talk about ! " I 

" He only talked about silly things ! " 

" Wliy did you not ask him about intelligent subjects ! " 

"I did ; but lie did not seem to understand even what I 
wanted from him." 

" Did he tell yon what his thoughts are about ? " 

" Yes, he told me. He thinks about buying a house, | 
that should bring him two thousand roables a year," 

" He may think of buying houses ; biit what does he 
think besides." | 

" He said he docs not think of anything else." I 

" And what does he do in the world ? " I 

"Copies papers at the office ; after business hours, smokes f 
cigarettes at home and thinks about his house." | 

" And what does he think about the Jews who have no [ 
education and live in poverty ? " 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 145 

" He thinks they are a stapid and dirty lot." 

"And what did he say when yon told him about ub, 
how we longed for somebody to teach us and save our 
minds from darkneBs ? " 

" He aaid that whenliia family and friends come to hear 
of it they will be much amused." 

" What is there to be amused at ? " 

A long, thoughtful Bilence followed and then as in one 
"Voice, the young men cried out, — 

" A bad man." 

Presently Chaim, Meir's cousin, aaid, — 

"Meir! that education and learning we wish for so 
much is perhaps not good, if it make people bad and 
etupid." Two or three youug men called out, — 

" Explain it to ua, Meir ! " 

Meir looked round his friends with dull eyes and bury- 
ing his face in his hands said : 

"Tdo not know, I am all adrift." 

This short reply sounded like a low, half-stifled aob. 
The singer EiicKer raised his hand and drew their atten- 
tion away from the grieved young man. 

' ' Do not be downcast, friends," he said, " I will aak the 
Master to anawcr your questions, and he drew from under 
the brushwood a large-sized book and with a triumphant 
smile, showed his friends the title-page. There, in great 
letters, stood the name of Moses Maimouides. The young 
people pressed closely around him, straightened themselves, 
and their faces expressed reverential attuntion. 

The laraelitish sage was to solve tlieir problems tlirougli 

s mouth of their beloved singer. Thti teacher was old, 




r 



146 MKIH EZOFOVITCU. 

forgotten by many, anatliematizcii by others, but dear and 
gacred to them, because their only one. From the time 
when hia spirit had spoken to them out of the books Eliezer 
had brought with him, they had felt different beings, and 
longed for something better and wider than their usual 
everyday life. Unfortunately, they did not find answers 
to all their questions, or comfort in all their griefa. Cen- 
turies had passed, times changed and other teachers had 
proclaimed tlie trath, but they did not know them. 

Eliezer did not begin at once but turned the leaves in 
search of a passage appropriate to their wants. 

In the meanwhile the girl sitting near the pond, rose 
and gliding silently along the verge of the wood, followed 
by the goat, approached the group of yonng men and stood 
behind Meir. She had come bo silently, that nobody no- 
ticed her presence ; with one arm round a slender birch- 
stem, her head pressing against its branches she looked at 
Meir'a bent head, the others she did not seem to notice 
at all. I 

Eliezer began in a clear aud ringing voice, — I 

" Hear, oh Israel !" ' 

With these words many psalms began and nearly all the 
religious readings of the Israelites. For the yonng men 
the words of the Teacher meant a paalm and a prayer of 
the soul. 
Eliezer, in a slightly singing voice, began, — 
"You ask me, my disciples, what force it is which at- 
tracts the heavenly bodies, called stars, for ever onwards, 
and why some rise so high as to be lost in the raitky way 
whilst others remain far below their sisters. 




I 



MEIIC EZOFOVITCH. 147 

I will unyeil before you the mystery you wish to pene- 
■trate. The force which attracts the heavenly bodies ia the 
Perfection that dwells upon the highest height and whose 
name in the human language, is God. The Btara, full of 
loye and longing, strive forever to go higher, so as to be 
nearer the perfect Wisdom and Goodness. They sail for- 
ever within space, and those that have the most perfect 
love for the Ideal go nearest to it, those that are clogged 
with heavy matter and less desirous of participating with 
the God-light remain far behind. 

"My disciples, from these heavenly bodies, which long 
most ardently for Perfection and come nearest it, proceed 
all the changes upon earth ; all that gi'ows and changes. 
From them spring all the shapes and symbols of things." 

Eliezer stopped and raised his eyes, wliich were radiant 
with joy. 

The young men were all pondering over the passage, 
trying in vain to find in the words of the sage the solution 
of their diflSculties. Meir said with reflection, — 

" There are people who lift up their spirit towards the 
Ideal. They believe in it and strive to raise themselves 
nearer to it. Others, like the heavenly bodies clogged 
with matter, do not long for Wisdom and Perfection, their 
spirits do not rise, but remain on the lower level." 

They began to understand, and their faces beamed with 
pleasure. Such a small crumb of truth and knowledge 
rejoiced these souls, so poor and yet so rich. 

Meir took the book, which evidently lie know well, from 
his friend's hands and read on another page, — 

The angels themselves arc not all alike. They staad. 



I 



148 HEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

one above the other, as upon the Btepa of a ladder, and the 

highest of all \b the epirit from whom comes thought and 

knowledge. This spirit is the life-giving intelligence, and 

the Hagada calls him the Prince of the World, — 8ar-ha 

Olam." 

"The highest angel is the spirit from whom com^ 
thought and knowledge, and the Hagada calls him the 
Prince of the World," repeated the young men after Meir. 

Their doubts had been dispersed. Knowledge again 
commanded their respect and roused their longing ; before 
their eyes passed the yision of the highest of angels carrj'- 
ing in his purple folds wisdom and knowledge. They 
were thoughtful and dreamy. Dreamy aud silent was the 
meadow and the forest beyond in the waning light. Sud- 
denly thp mellow voice of Eliezer Interrupted the silence. 

"Within a dream I saw the spirit ot my people," began 
the singer before Jehovah. 

Who composed this song, nobody knew. The first verse 
came probably from Eliezer, after one of his ecstatic dreams; 
Ariel, the son of Kalman, had composed another, whilst 
playing upon his violin ; another from Meir, or maybe was 
lisped with childish lips by Chaim, the son of Ahrsm. 
Where do all the people's songs come from ? They are the 
outcome of yearning hearts, imprisoned thoughts straining 
towards a better life. 

Thus originated the song which Eliezer intonated, aud 
in which the young men joined with their clear voices, 

" Within my dream I saw the spirit of my people, 
Dili from his slioulders flow rich purple Kannentn? 
^ptv^ous chariots carry him about the world? 




XEIU EZOFOVITCII. 149 

In the dust ot stony roaiis I saw liis feet, 
Dust covered were liis limbs and weary head, 
And tattered garment* draped the wasted body 
Which trembled," 

Here a gentle whisper came from behind the branches, — 

" Hush I people are coming ! 

In fact, on the path across the wood, the dark shadows 
of men were seen approaching, hut the young people heard 
neither Goida's warning nor the steps which were drawing 
nearer. IjOikI and clear rang out the second verae, — 



" Oh, spirit of my people, crushed by agea, 
Of suffering ; will not the Lord relent? 
Where is it gone, the wisdom of your sages ? 
And whereof Sioo's roses is the scent? 
Are all Lebanon's cedars crushed and broken ? 
WUl never there resound your song in token 
Of love and peace ? " 



^^ The last words were still vibrating in the evening air, 
when three men entered the meadow. They wore their 
Sabbath garments, with colored handkerchief round their 
■waist, which, on a Sabbath, can only be worn in this way 
withont sin. 

In the midst was Jankeil Kamionker, the father of 
Eliezer, the singer, and on either side Abram Ezofovitch, 
Chaim's father, and Moreine Kalman, the father of Ariel. 
In spite of the increasing dusk, they recognized their sons, 
and. the sons their fathers. The voices of the young men 
trembled, grew fainter, and finally died away altogether. 
All were silent, except one voice, in which presently the 
clear, hell-like tones of a girl joined. It was Golda, who 



ISO 



l 

^M porhaps wanted to sliow that he waa not ileaerted and share 

^H his danger. ?{ot heeding their companion'^ eilence or the 

^H presence of the threatening figures, their Toicea rose fresh 

^K and clear in the evening stillness. 



MKIR EZOFOriTCn. 



" Let thy tired feet rest, and thy wounds be bealed. 
Let the Kingdom arrive of wisdom and light, 
To disperse tlie shadows of darkness and night. 
Oh I rise, my people, shake the duet from thy feet. 
Break asunder thy cliains and be ready to meet 
The angel of light." 



The song had only three verses. After it there was 
silence. The elders of the community, standing in the 
middle of the meadow, turned back and, talking angrily i 
and volubly to each other, directed their steps towards I 
the house of Ezofovitch. 




2IE1B EZOFOVITCH. 



CHAPTER XI. 



101 

4 



Saul's second sou, Abram, was quite different from liia 
brother, Rafael ; the latter, in s])ite of his fifty odd years, 
was still handsome and erect ; his manners grave and quiet. 
The younger brother's figure was slightly bent, his 
speech quick and impulsive, betraying a passionate tem- 
per. Both brothers were learned, and through their 
knowledge had long ago acquired in the community the 
title of Moreine. Rafael had studied mostly the Talmud, 
and was known as one of the best Talmudists ; Abram 
preferred the mystic intricacies of the Zohar. The elder 
brother was highly respected by outsiders, with whom he 
had business dealings ; the younger was higher in the 
graces of the elders, and prided himself upon the friend- 
ship of the rabbi. A close bond of union existed between 
him and the two elders of the Cahala, Moreine Kalman 
and the pious Jankeil Eamionker. On week days they 
often transacted their business, as selling, buying, or tak- 
ing leases, together ; on the day of rest they road, medi- 
tated, or took walks together ; which, on the Sabbath, 
were lawful, if not exceeding two thonsand steps beyond 
their own honseB. Sometimes when tempted by the fresh- 
ness of the woods, each of them took a piece of bread, the 
I symbol of their home and buried it ; this enabled them to 
L«xtend their walk two thousand steps further without 




154 MEJH EZOFOriTCB. 

Ahram looked at his father with flaahing eyes. 

" Father," he said, " think mostly of the Karaitiah girl. 
This impure friendship brings great shame upon our house. 
You know, father, it is our custom tliat no true Israelite 
should look at any other woman but her whom hia parents 
give him for his wife." 

" He should not," shouted Reb Jankiel, passionately, 
and Kalman's face became very red. The modesty of these 
people was so ingrained in their lives that the very thoaght 
of profligacy made them blush. 

Even old Saul changed color. 

" I wili marry him speedily," he said, 

Abram replied. 

" He will never marry us long as he sees the Karaitiah 
girl." 

" What can I do to prevent it ? " said Saul, almost de- 
spairingly. 

The three men looked at each other, 

" Something must be done with her," they said, unani- 



After a prolonged silence and looking at each other, the 
two men bowed before Saul and left the room. 

Abram remained behind. 

"Father, how will you punish him ?" 

" He shall be shut up in the Bet-ha Midrosh for a whole 
week and read the Talmud." 

" That will do no good, you had better have him flogged." 

Saul still kept his face down. 

" I will not have him flogged," he said decidedly, and 
after a while, added in a low voice, " The aoul of Michael 




MEIR EZOFOVITCB. 165 

lived iu father's body, aud the spirit of Hersz dwells now 
in Meir's body." 

" How can we know that t"' said Abram, evidently 
struck by his father'a words. 

" The spirit was first recognized by his great-grand- 
mother, and afterwards by Rabbi Isaac." 
Sanl sighed wearily. 

" He will sit in Bet-ha Midrash and read the Talmud, 
neither sleep nor eat under my roof for a whole week, and 
the Shamees (messenger of the Synagogue) shall make 
public his shame and his punishment." 

END OF PART THE FIRST. 




PART II. 



CHAPTER I. 

The Bet-ha-Midrash was a large, well-lighted building, 
close to the synagogue. It served for various purposes. 
People congregated there for the less solemn prayers or 
lectures ; the learned used it for their discussions upon 
knotty points of the Law ; here also were kept the books of 
the different brotherhoods or societies, of which there are 
many in every Jewish community. Lastly, it served as a 
place of penance in exceptional cases, when any of the 
young men had transgressed the religious or moral laws. 
The punishment was not so much a physical discomfort as 
a moral one, and left an indelible stain upon the delin- 
quent's character. 

Opposite the Ha Midrash rose a smaller but equally well- 
kept building. It was the Bet-ha-Cahol or Cahala rooms, 
where the functionaries of the town council and the elders 
held their sittings. A little further was a less pretentious 
building, the Hek-Dosh or poor-house, where all those 
who were unable to work and hungry, had the right to apply 
for food and shelter. 

Opposite the house of prayer was the cheder or school, 

where the learned and much-respected Reb Mosze ruled. 

The court with all its buildings, from the synagogue and 

157 



r 



1 



168 MEIR EZOFOVITCU. 

hospital to tbo tmy dwelling of the rabbi was like the 
capitol of a small realm ; everything was there which conld 
promote the well-beiug of the public. 

All these buildings had been raised at one time, to em- 
body a great idea, either to serve God or mankind. la 
what manner these lofty ideas had been perverted and 
served other purposes than those first conceived is another I 
thing altogether — for this we must ask history. ■ 

Eight days had elapsed, since that memorable evening i 
when the young men had conversed and sung together on ] 
the meadow. On the ninth day, about sunset, Meir left : 
the Ha Midrash and stood in its high portico. 

Obedient to the order of the head of the family, he had \ 
spent the week in utter solitude, reading the Talmud ' 
which he knew so well already and for which, in spite of all i 
the doubts which troubled his mind, he never lost the 
reverence implanted into him from his childhood. The 
penance had not brought him any physical discomforts, 
his meals were carried to him from home, where the chari- 
table women had tried to make them even more palatable 
than usual. Nevcrtheleas, lie was much changed. He 
looked paler, thinner, yet withal more manly. Neither in 
his expression or bearing was there any trace of his former 
almost childish timidity. Perhaps his intelligence had 
rebelled against the injustice of the punishment ; maybe 
the solitude and the study of the many volumes in the 
Ha Midraah, had called fortli new ideas and confirmed 
him in the old ones. The nervous contraction of his brow 
and feverish burning eyes betrayed bard mental work, all 
the harder because without help or guide. The penance 



MEIR EZOFOVITCa. 159 

inflicted npon him had missed its aim. Instead of quiet- 
ing and soothing the restless spirit, it had made him bolder 
and more rebellious. 

When Meir descended the stepa into the court another 
ftjeling took hold of him, that of shame. At the eight of 
several people crossing the courtyard he dropped his eyes 
and blushed. They were the Elders of the Cahala, who 
seeing Meir, pointed at him Lvnd laughed. One of thera, 
Jankiel Kamionker did not laugh, and seemingly had not 
even noticed the young man. He was walking apart from 
his companions and his face looked troubled and preoc- 
cupied. Instead of entering into the Cahala building 
with the other men, he almost stealthily approached the 
almshouse ; he only passed it, hut it was sufficient to ex- 
change a few whispered words with a man whose shaggy 
hair and swollen countenance appeared in the open window. 
Meir knew the man and silently wondered ni it 1 s ness 
the rich and pious Jankiel could have with at! ef a d 
vagrant like the carrier Jochel. But he li 1 not th nk 
much about it and directed his steps, not towards 1 on e 
but to a small passage near the school, whicl would br g 
him out into the fields ; he was longing for space and air. 
He stood still for a few minutes. An odd murmuring 
noise rising and falling, mixed with occasional wailing 
reached his ear, it was dominated by a thick hoarse voice 
alternately reading, talking, or scolding. 

A peculiar smile crossed Meir's face ; it expressed anger 
and compassion. He was standing near the school, where 
the melamed Reb Mosze infused knowledge into the juve- 
nile minds. Something sccnicd to attract him there, he 



rJ60 MEIR EZOFOVITCIJ. 

leaued his elbows on the nindow gill and looked in. It 
was a narrow, low, and evil-amelling room. Between the 
blackened ceiling, wall, and floor full of dirt and litter, 
which filled the air with a damp and heavy vapor, there 
seethed and rocked a compact gray mass which produced 
the murmuring noise. By and by, as if out of a dense fog, 
childish faces seemed to detach themselves. The faces 
were various, some dark and coarse, as if swollen with dis- 
ease; others, pale, delicate, and finely cut. As various aa the 
faces were thoir expressions, there were those who with 
mouth wide open and idiotic eyes stared into vacancy, 
others twitched and fretted with ill-concealed impatience 
but most of them, though suffering, looked patient and 
submissive. Their outward appearance sliowed an eqnal 
variety from the decent coat of the rich man's child, in 
gentle graduations to tlie sleeveless jackets and tatters of 
the very poorest classes. Some fifty children were crowded 
in that room which barely accommodated half that number. 
They sat almost one upon the other on hard, dirty benches 
closely packed together. This was not the only school in 
Szybow, but none of the others was so eagerly sought after 
by the parents as the one conducted by Reb Mosze, known 
by bis piety and cabalistic knowledge, the favorite of the 
rabbi. It must not be thought that Reb Mosze initiated 
his scholars into the first steps of learning ; this would 
have been a sheer waste of his capabilities, which were 
aiming at something higher. The children he received 
were from ten to twelve years old, and had already been 
taught in other acliools to read Hebrew and the Chuniesh 
or Five ' ' Moaea, with all their explanations and 




MEIR EZOForiTVH. 161 

commentarieB ; after that they came under the tuition of 
Eeb Mosze aud were introduced to the Talmud, with all its 
chapters, paragraphs, debatable points, and commentaries 
above commentaries. 

All this would bdve been more than sufficient to enlarge 

or confuse the minds of those pale, miserable children, but 

Reb Mosze in hia zeal did not content himself with esercis- 

I ing the memory of his Bcholars, he wanted also to develop 

' their imagination, and sometimes treated them to extracts 

from the metaphysical Cabala. The reading or expounding 

L of parts of those books were looked upon by him aa a kind 

rof rest or recreation, which sometimes it proved to be when 

l.the melamed was too deeply absorbed to watch his audi- 

I ence. 

! melamed was thus occupied when Meir looked 

through the window. He was bending over a heavy book 

with an expression of ecstatic rapture and rocking his body 

to and fro with the chair upon which he sat. The scholars 

Lwith their books before them n'ere also rocking themselves 

■nd repeating their lessons in a lond murmur, sometimes 

Pmniting the edge of the bench with their flsts by way of 

[i emphasis or burying their hands into their already towzled 

I' manes. 

Suddenly the melamed left off rocking himself, took the 
lieavy book in both hands and struck it with all hia might 
r upon the table. It was the signal for silence. The 
liacholars left off rocking and raised their eyes in sudden 
Vfllarm, thinking the time had come to give out their les- 
f Bon. 

But the melamed did not think of the lessons, his spirit 




162 MEIR EZOFOVlTCa. 

had been carried away into other BphereB altogether, but 
he was etill dimly coDsciouB of his duties as a, teacher, and 
wanted bis scholars to share in his spiritual rapture. He 
raised hia finger and began to read a paragraph from the 
Scheior-Koma. 

" The great prince of knowledgethuBdescribes the great- 
ness of Jehovah. Theheight of Jehovahisonehundred six 
and thirty times a thousand leagues. From the right hand 
of Jehovah to hia left the distance is Beventy-seven times 
ten thousand leagues. His skull is three times ten thou- 
sand leagues in length and breadth. The crown on his 
head is sixty times ten thousand leagues long. The soles 
of the feet of the King of kings are thirty thousand leagues 
long. From the heel to the knee nineteen times ten thou- 
sand leagues ; from the knees to the hip, twelve times ten 
thousand and four leagues. From the loins to the neck, 
twenty-four times ten thousand leagues. Such is the 
greatness of the King of kings, the Lord of the world." 

After this last exclamation, Reb Mosze, hia hands raised 
in the air, remained motionless. Motionless likewise were 
the children. All, without exception, the timid and the 
mischievouB, the idiotic and the sensible ones, stared open- 
mouthed at the melamed. The description of Jehovah's 
greatness seemed to have paralyzed their minds. 

After a short pause the melamed woke up to the every- 
day business and called out, — 

"Goon." 

The children again resumed their murmur and rooking. 
It would have been impossible from their confused voices 
to get an inkiini; of what they wore learning, but Meir 



MEIR EZOFOVTTCII. 163 

irho had passed through the same conrse and possesBed uu 

escellent memory understood that they were at the eiglith 

chapter of Berachot (about the blessing). 

The children in a singing murmur, with great efforts 

I that brought the perspiration in tlieir faces, read, — 

' Mischna, the first : The disputed questions between the 

I schools of Shamai and Hillel. The school of Shamai says : 

•First, bless the day and then the wine.' The school of 

} Hillel says : ' First bless the wine and then the day' (the 

I Sabbath). 

'MischnaS. Theschoolof Shamaif says ; 'To wash the 
hands, then flit the cup.' Hillel says : ' Fill the cup, then 
I VBsh the hands.' 

' Mischna 3. The school of ShamaV says : ' After washing 
' hands put the uapkin on the table. The school of Hillel 
L lays : ' Put it on a cushion.' 

'Mischna 4. The school of Shamai says : 'Sweep the 
I loom, then wash your hands,' The school of Hillel : 
'Wash your hands, then sweep tlic room.'" 
A double knock with the heavy book upon the rickety 
I table reduced the scholars to sdence once more. 

The melamed's round aud gleaming eyes wandered about 
;he room as if in search for a victim. He pointed to one 
of the hindmost benches and called out,— 



A pale and slender diild rose at. the summons and fised 
a pair of large frightened eyes upon the teacher. 
'' Come here." 

There was a great rustle amongst the boys, for it was no 
' matter to pass across that dense muss of children. 




f 164 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

Ijeibelo at last mauiiged to squeeze himself through, and 
holding his heavy book with both hands stood within the 
small space between the teaeher'a table and the first bench. 
He did not look at the melamed, but kept his ejes fixed 
upon the book. 

' Why do yon look down like a brigand ? — look at me I " 
and the melamcd struck him under his chin. 

The child looked at him, bis eyes slowly filling with 
tears. 

"Well ! what does the school of Sbaniai say ? and what 
the school of Ilillel ? " began the melamed. 

There was a long silence. The children on the first 
bench nndgod his elbow and whispered, — 

"Speak out !" 

" The school of Shamai'," began Leibele, in a trembling 
voice, "says, bless tlie wine. . ." 

"The day, the day and then the wine," whispered a few 
compassionate voices from the first bench. But at the 
same time the nielamed's hand came into contact with the 
ear of one of the offenders and his yell reduced the others 
to silence. 

Reb Mosze turned again to the child, — 

" Mischna, the first. What says the school of Shamai ? " 

Tlie answer came in a still more trembling, almost in- 
audible voice, — 

" The school of Shamai says : bless the wine. . ," 

The melamed's flst came down upon the young Talmu- 
dist's shoulder out of whoso hands the heavy book slipped 
and fell npon the floor, 

" You bad, abominable boy," yelled the melamed, " you 



t 




^B 


■ 


1 




! 










t^i 


a^^ 


Ki 






Wb..^l6 








P^^^B^^x ^ 


'% 








^2||^hI' 






'■Losing his looliUK', )!.■ f.'l] clown, cariTiiig with tiiiii 


'"■ ''■■'""'■' 




k. 






i 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 165 

do not learn your lessons and throw your book on the 
floor^ did you not read that the school of Shamai says 
' to bless first the day and then the wine ? ' '^ 

Here a loud and sarcastic voice from the window called 
out, — 

'' Reb Mosze, that poor child has never seen any wine 
in his life, and suffers hunger and flogging every day ; it is 
not easy for him to remember whether to bless first the day 
and then the wine/^ 

But Eeb Mosze did not hear that speech, because both 
his hands were busy in belaboring the head and shoulders 
of his pupil who, without crying out, tried to avoid the 
blows by ducking on the fioor. Suddenly a pair of strong 
hands pushed the melamed aside, who losing his footing, 
fell down, carrying with him the rickety table. 

^^ Reb Mosze ! '^ called out the same sarcastic and angry 
voice, — 

"Is this not an Israelitish child that you wreak -your 
spite upon it ? Is it not a poor man^s child and our 
brother ?'' 

His face burning with indignation he bent down and 
raising the child in his arms turned towards the door. 

" Reb Mosze, you take all the intelligence out of the 
children's heads, kill all the feeling in their hearts ; I 
heard them laughing when you beat Leibele.^' 

Saying this, he disappeared with the child in his arms. 

Only then Reb Mosze woke up from the stupefaction 
into which the sudden assault had plunged, him and 
disengaging his burly frame from under the table, he 
shouted, — 




rlM -VB/R BZOFOriTCH. 

"ABsaBsio ! murderer!" and turning towards Iiis 
Roholars, yelled, — 
" Get bold of him ! atone him I " 
But he addressed empty benches ; the books lay scattered 
about and the seats turned upside down. The scholars 
seeing their master prostrate nnder the table and one of 
their companions rescued by main force, partly from fright. 
partly from a wish for liberty, had all rushed through the 
door and dispersed about the town like a flight of birds 
released from the cage. 

The school was empty and the court was deserted, ex- 
cept for a few grave men who stood in the portico of the 
Bet-harCahol and towards thom rushed the frantic melamed, 
panting and tearing his hair. Meir in the mean while 
went swiftly on, with the child in his arms, whose tears fell 
thick and fast, but the eyes which through the tears looked 
at Meir were not the eyes of an idiot any longer. 

" Moreine ! " whispered Leibelo. 

" Moreine I " he repeated in a still lower voice, '•" how 
good you are ! " 

At the comer of the little street where the tailor lived, 
Meir put the child down. 

"There," he said, pointing at Izmul'a house, "gohome 
now," 

The child stiffened, put his hands into his sleeves and 
remained motionless. Meir smiled and looked into his 
face. 

" Are you afraid ? " 

" I am afraid," said the motionless boy. 

Instead of returning as he had intended, the youngm 




MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 167 

went towarda Izmul's hut, followed at a distance by Leibele. 
The day was almost over and so was the work in the 
little street. The pale and ragged inhabitants crowded 
before their thresholds. 

Scarcely had Meir penetrated into the street, when he 
became aware of a great change in the attitude of the 
people towards him. Formerly the grandson of Saul had 
been greeted effusively from all sides. They !iad come to 
him with their complaints, sometimes asked for advice, 
others had greeted him from the window with loud voices. 

Now scarcely anybody seemed to notice him. The men 
looked away, the women glanced at him with curiosity, 
whispered to each other, and pointed their fingers at him. 
One of the woodcutters with whom he had worked at his 
grandfather's looked at him sadly and withdrew into his 
hut. Meir shrugged his shoulders impatiently. 

"What is it all about?" he thought. "What wrong 
have I done to them ? " Strange it seemed to him also 
that the tailor did not rush out to meet him with his usual 
effusive flatteries and complainings ; nevertheless, he en- 
tered the dwelling. Leibele remained outside, crouching 
near the wall. 

The young man had to bend his head in order to cross 
the low door leading into the dark entrance where two 
goats were dimly visible, thence to the room where the air, 
in spite of the open window, felt heavy and oppressive. A 
thin woman with a wrinkled face passed him on the 
threshold. It was Izmul's wife who carried a piece of 
brown bread to the child outside, Leibele's supper when ho 
e home from school. 



^Kl68 



MHIK KluFOVlTCU. 



CHAPTER II. 



The whole family were eating a similar supper with the 
exception of the elder and grown-np people, who seasoned 
their bread with pinches of chopped raw onion, of which 
a small quantity was lying on a battered plate. Besides 
Leibelo, there were two younger boys sitting on the floor, 
a two-year old child crawled about on all fours, and a few 
months old baby was suspended in a cradle near the ceiling 
and rocked by one of the elder girls. Another was bnsy 
with the goats, and a third feeding a blind old woman, 
Izmui'a mother. She broke the bread in little pieces, 
Apr ink led onion upon it and put it into the grandmother's 
hand, sometimes in her mouth. The blind mother was 
the only one in the family who possessed a bed, the others 
slept on the floor or upon the hard benches. She looked 
well eared for, the crossover on her shoulders was clean 
and whole, and on her head she had a quilted cap of black 
satin, profusely trimmed. 

The granddaughter seemed quite absorbed in her task of 
administering to the old woman. She patted the wrinkled 
hand encouragingly when she perceived her difficulty in 
masticating the hard food. As in the prosperous house- 
hold of Saul, BO in the dirty hut of the tailor Izmul, the 
mother occupied the first place, and was the object of 
general care and reverence. It is never seen in Israel t 






MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 169 

a son, be he rich or poor, neglects those who gave him life. 
^* Like the branches of a tree, we all sprung from her," 
said the head of the house of Ezofovitch. 

The tailor Izmul could not express his feelings like Saul, 
but when his mother lost her sight, he tore his long, curly 
hair in despair ; fasted with his whole family for three 
days, and with the money thus saved bought an old bed- 
stead, which he put together with his own hands, against 
the wall ; and when Sara Ezofovitch, Ber's wife, gave him 
an order to sew a black satin dress for her, he cut a goodish 
piece from the rich material to make a quilted cap for his 
mother. 

When Izmul saw Meir coming into the room, he jumped 
up and bent his flexible body in two, but did not kiss his 
hand as usually, or call out joyfully, — 

^^ Ai ! what a visitor, what a welcome visitor ! '^ 

^^ Moreine,^^ he exclaimed, '^ I have heard of what you 
have done. The children from school were running past 
and said you had knocked the melamed under the table, 
and rescued my Leibele from his powerful hands. You 
did it out of kindness, but it was a rash deed, moreine, 
and a sinful one, and will bring me into great trouble. 
Reb Mosze will not take Leibele back or receive any of my 
other boys, and they will remain stupid and ignorant. ^^ 

'^ Ai ! ai ! moreine, you brought trouble upon me and 
upon yourself with your kindly heart. ^' 

** Do not trouble about me, Izmul, never mind about 
what I brought upon myself, but take pity upon your child, 
and at least do not whip him at home ; he suffers enough 
at school.^^ 



r 



172 MEIIt EZOFOVITCII. 

caunot find any work, and is obliged to seek shelter in tk 

Ilek-Doah (poor-house)." 

Jochel sighed heavily, but soou raised his head almost 
defiantly. 

'■That cannot be helped," he said, "perhaps I siiall 
soon see my way to make a big profit." 

The words of the vagrant recalled to Meir'e mind, tlie 
short interview he had witnessed at the window of the poor- 
house, between Jochel and Jankiel Ramionker. At tlia 
same time he was struck by the expression of the tailor's face 
which twitched all over as if under the influence of a 
great excitement. His eyes sparkled and the hands 
trembled. 

"Who knows/' he exclaimed, "what may happen in the 
future. Those that are poor one day, may become rich the 
other. Who knows ? The poor tailor Izmul may yet 
build a house on the market square, and set np in businen 
for himself," 

Meir smiled sadly. The groundless hopes of these poor 
outcasts stirred his compassion. He looked absently around 
and throngh the window at the fields beyond, 

"You, Izmul," he said, "will certainly not bnild big 
honses ; nor yoti, Jochel, make heavy profits. Is it to be 
thought of ? You are too many, and there is not enough 
for you all. I sometimes think if jou left these narrow 
dirty streets and looked about in the world, yon might 
find a better way of living ; even if you worked like the 
peasants on the soil, your life would be easier." 

He said this in an absent way, not so much addressing 
the two men before him, as the noisy crowd without. 



^P MEIB BZOFOVITCE. 173 

But when Izmul heard these words, he twice jumped into 
the air and twisted his cap upon his head. 

" Moreine ! " he cried out, " what ugly words come from 
your lips. Moreine ! do you wish to turn Israel upside 
down ? " 

" Izmul," said Meir angrily, " it is true. When I look 
st your misery, and the misery of your families, I should 
like to turn things upside down." 

" Ai ! ai ! " cried the impresaiblo and lively Izmul, hold- 
ing his head with both hands. " I would not believe what 
the people said of you and called them liars ; but I see my- 
self now, that yon are a bad Israelite, and the covenant 
!ind customs of your forefathers are not dear to you any 
longer. " 

Meir started, and drew himself up. 

"Who dares to say, I am a bad Israelite ?" he exclaimed. 
Izmul's excited face, took a quieter but more solemn ex- 
pression, and he came closer to Meir. Nobody would hear 
him, as the inmates of the room had gone into the street 
and Jochel retired into his corner to finish his meal. All 
the same he spoke in an impressive whisper, as if about to 
disclose a terrible secret, 

"Moreine! it ia no use asking who said it. People' 
whisper, like leaves upon a tree ; who is to say which 
special leaf has whispered or which mouth ? Everybody 
speaks ill of you. They say you break the Sabbath, read 
accursed books, sing abominable songs, and incite young 
men to rebellion ; that you do not pay due respect to the 
learned and wealthy members of the community, aiul— " 
here he seemed to hesitate and added in a still lower 



^H 174 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

^H Toice, and that you live Id friendsliip with the Karaitish 

■ girl." 

^H Meir listened like one turned to stone. He hadgroun 

^V very pale and his syea were flashing. 

B "Who dares to eay that ? he repeated, in a choking 

voice. 

"Moreiue I" replied Izmul, waving both hamis, "yon 
were sent for a week into the Bet-ha-Midraeh to do penance. 
When the poor people in this street heard of it, there 
was a great commotion. Some wanted to go to joir 
grandfather Saul, and to the rabbi, to ask them not to put 
you to shame. The wood-cutter Jndel wanted to go, tha 
carrier Baruch, well, and the chaiet Izmul too. But soon 
afterwards people began to talk and we heard why youliail 
been punished ; then we remained quiet and said to each 
other : He ib good and charitable, never proud with poor 
people, he helped ns often in our misery, but if he do aot 
keep the covenant, his grandfather Saul is right to punish 
him." 

He stopped at last out of breath with his rapid speech, 
and Meir fixed hia penetrating eyes upon him and 
asked, — 

"Izmul! if the learned and wealthy people ordered 

me to he atoned, would you also thiuk they were right ?" 

Izmul retreated a few steps in horror. 

" Ugh ! " he exclaimed, " why should you think of such 

terrible things ? " and then added in a thoughtful voice. 

Well, Moreine ! if you did not keep the holy Covenant — " 

Meir interrupted in a louder tone,— 

^ "And do you know yourself, Izmul, what is the cov&- 



^H XEIB EZOFOVITCH. 175 

II ant ? How much of it is God'a law? and liow much 
people's invention ?" 

' ■ Hush ! " liissed Izmul, in a low voice, " people can 
hear, aud I should not like anything unpleasant to happen 
to yon under my roof." 

Meir looked at the window and saw several people sitting 
on the hench before Izmul's houee. They did not seem 
to listen but talked amongst themselves ; at the last words 
of Meir and Izmul's they had raised their heads and looked 
into tlie window with a half-afitoniahed ha If -indignant es- 
preasion, Meir -shrugged his shoulders impatiently and 
without saying good-bye turned towards the door, lie 
had almost crossed the threshold when I?.mnl rushed after 
him, stooped down, and kissed his hand. 

"Moreine ?" he whispered, "I am sorry for you. Think 
better of it, reflect in time and do not cause scandal in Israel. 
Your heart is made of gold, but your head is full of fire. 
Remember what you did to the melamed to-day 1 — If you 
were not under such a terrible cloud, Moreine," he went 
on, raising a nervously twitching face up to Meir. " I 
should have opened my heart before yon, because to-day, 
the chaiet Iznml is in sore trouble. I do not know what 
to do ! He may remain poor all his life or he may become 
rich ! He may be happy or very wretched. A great for- 
tune is coming to him, and he is afraid to take it because 
it looks like misfortune ! " 

Meir looked in silent amazement at the poor man who 
evidently tried to convey some secret to him ; but, at the 
same time from beyond the blackened stove earns Jochel'a 
deep voice, — < 



r 



176 



MEIIt EZOFOVITCII. 




" Izraul ! will you be quiet ! Come here, I want you.' 

The tailor with his troubled face rushed towards him, and 
Meir, deeply musiiig, went out into the street. 

It was evident from the clouded mien of the men and 
their scanty greetings that he was not so welcome to them 
as he used to be. Nobody rose when he passed or ap- 
proached him with a friendly word. Only the child rose 
when he had passed, pushed his hands into the sleeves of 
his garments and followed him. 

Walking one behind the other, they crossed a long nar- 
row street and found themselves in the fields which divided 
Abel Karaim's hnt from the town. 




MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 177 



CHAPTER III. 

It was almost dark now, but no flickering light was to be 
seen in AbeFs window. They were not asleep yet, as Meir 
could see the dark outline of Golda near the window. 

They greeted each other with a silent motion of the 
head. 

*^ Golda !^^ said Meir, in a low and rapid voice, **havo 
you met with any unpleasantness lately ? Has anybody 
molested you ? '^ 

The girl pondered a little over his question. 

** Why do you ask me that, Meir ? '^ 

'^ I was afraid some injury might have been done to you. 
People have spread some foolish slander about us.'^ 

** I do not mind injury, I have grown up with it, injury 
is my sister.'^ 

Meir still looked troubled. 

^* Why have you no light burning ? '' he said. 

*^ I have nothing to spin, and zeide prays in the dark.^^ 

*^ And why have you nothing to spin ? " 

*' I carried the yam to Hana Witobska and Sara, Ber's 
wife, and they did not give me any more wool.*^ 

*^ They have not insulted you ? " asked Meir, angrily. 

Golda was again silent. 

** People's eyes say often worse things than their tongue, '' 
she replied at last, quietly. 

12 



MEIR EZOFOVITCU. 




H 178 

^M She evidently did not want to complain, or maybe her 

^B mind was too full of other things to heed it mtich. 

^B "Meir," she said, "jou have been in great trouble 

H lately." 

^r Meir sat down npon t!ie bench outside and leaned hia 

head npon hia hand with a weary sigh. 

"The greatest trouble and grief fell upon me to-day, 
when I found that the people have turned iiway from 
me. Their former friendship has changed into ill-feel- 
ing aud those that confided in me suspect me now of 
evil." 

Golda hung her head sadly, and Meir, went on : "I do 
not know myself what to do ; if I follow the promptings of 
my heart, my people will hate and persecute me — if I 
act against my conscience, I shall hate myself and never 
know peace or happiness. — Whilst I was sitting in the 
Bet-ha Midrash I had almost made up my mind to let 
things be, and to try and live in peace with everybody — 
but when I had left the Ha Midrash my temper again got 
the better of me, and rescuing a poor child, I offended the 
melamed and through him the elders and the people. 
That is what I have done to-day. And when I come to 
think of it, it seems to me a rash useless act, as it will not 
prevent the melamed from destroying the poor children's 
health and intelligence. What can I do ? I am alone, 
young, without a wife and family or any position in the 
world. They can do with me what they like, and I can do 
nothing. They will persecute my friends until they desert 
me; they have already begun to injure and insult yon, 
beoanse you gave mc your \\eaT\. vwii^omii ■j'sw't iiiwif. -^vt,!!. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 179 

mine on the meadow. I shall only bring unhappiness to 
yon ; perhaps it would be better to shut my eyes and ears 
to everything and live like other people." Hia voice be- 
came lower and lower and more difficult from the inward 
struggle with doubts and perplexities. 

Both remained silent for a few minutes, when suddenly 
a strange noise, seemingly from the otlier side of the hill, 
reached their ears. First it sounded faint and distant like 
the passing of many wheels upon a soft sandy, soil. It grew 
louder by degrees, till the grating of wheels and stamping 
of many human feet could be heard quite distinctly. All 
this amidst the dark silence of the night gave it a myste- 
rious almost unreal appearance, 
k Meir stood straight up and listened intently. 
H " What is that ? " asked Meir. 

" What can !t be ? " said Golda, in her quiet Toice. 

It seemed as if a great many carte were passing at the 
other side of the hill. 

"I thought something rumbled and knocked, inside 
the hill," said Golda. 

Indeed it sounded now like human steps, inside the hill, 
and as if they were throwing down some heavy weights. 
There was fear in Heir's face. He looked intently at 
Golda : " Shut the window, and bolt your door, " he said 
quickly, " I will go and see what it is ! " 

It was evident that he was frightened ouly on her 
account. 

" Why should I fasten either window or door. A strong 
land could easily wrench them open." 
I Meir went round the base of the \u\\, aui soow ^.wotvS. 




r 



180 MEIK EZOFOriTCIi. 

himself on the other side. What he saw there filled him 
with the greatest Rstonishmeiit. 

In a half circle, npou the saudy furrows, stood a great 
many carts laden with caaka of all sizes. Around the 
carts a great many people were mcn'ing, peasants and 
Jews. The peasants were busy unloading the carts and 
rolling the casks into a cavern, which either natnre or 
hiiman hands had shaped in the hill. 

The Jews who were flitting in and out, amongst the carts 
looking at the casks, or sounding them with their knuckles, 
finally crowded round a man who stood leaning his back 
against the side of the hill, and a low-voiced, hut lively dis- 
cussion followed. Amongst the Jews, Meir recognized sev- 
eral innkeepers from the neighborhood, and in the man with 
whom they conversed, Jankiel Kamionker. The peaaante 
whose task it was to unload the carts preserved a gloomy 
sileneo. A strong smell of alcohol permeated the air. 

The astonishment of Meir did not last long. He began 
to see the meaning of the whole scene, and seemingly 
had made up his mind what to do, as he moved a few steps 
in Jankiel Kamionker's direction. He had not gone far 
when a hiige shadow detached itself from a projection of 
the hill and barred the way. 

" "Where are you going, Meir ? " whispered a man. 

"Why do you stop me from going, Jochel," replied Meir, 
and tried to push him aside. But Jochel grasped him by- 
the coat tails. 

" Do you not care for yonr life any more ? " he whis- 
pered. "I am sorry for yon, because 3'ou are good and 
charitahlc, take wiiming and go at once." 



MEIR EZOFOVITCU. 181 

" But I want to know what Eeb Jankiel and his inn- 
keepers are going to do with the casks/' persisted Meir. 

^'It does not concern you/' whispered Jochel, '^et 
neither your eyes see, nor your ears hear what Reb Jankiel 
is doing. He is engaged in a big business, you will only 
hinder him. Why should you stand in his way ? What 
do you gain by it ? beside, what can you do against him?'' 

Meir remained silent, and turned into another direction. 

'^ What can I do? " he whispered to himself, with quiver- 
ing lips. 

Passing near Abel Karaim's hut he saw Golda still stand- 
ing at the window. He nodded to her. 

'^ Sleep in peace." 

But she called out to him, — 

'* Meir, here is a child sitting on the floor asleep." 

He came nearer, and saw, close to the bench where he 
had been sitting, the crouching figure of a child. 

*' Leibele ! " he said, wonderingly. He had not seen the 
lad, who had quietly followed him, and sat down close to 
him." 

^^ Leibele ! " repeated Meir, and put his hand upon the 
child's head. He opened a pair of half -unconscious eyes 
and smiled. 

^^ Why did you come here," asked Meir, smilingly. 

The child seemed to collect his thoughts, then answered, — 

^'I followed you." 

'' Father and mother will not know what has become of 

you." 

'^Father sleeps, and mother sleeps," began Leibele rock- 
ing his head, — and the goats are sleeping," he added after 



i3t friends, 1 



rl82 MEjn EZOFOVITCn. 

a while, and at the remembrance of those, 1 
be laughed aloud. 
But from Meir's lipe the slight amile had vauiahed. 
He sighed and said, as if to himself, — 
" How ahall I act ? What ought I to do ? " 
Golda, with ber hands crossed above her head, looked 
thoughtfully up to the starry sky. After a while she 
whispered timidly, — 

" I will ask zeide ; zeide is very learned, be knows the 
whole Bible by heart." 
" Ask hira," said Meir. 

Tbe girl turned her bead towards the dark interior, and 
called out, — 

"Zeide! What does Jehovab command a man to do, 
from whom the people bave turned away beeaase he does 
not want to act against his conscience." 

Abel interrupted his prayera. He was accustomed to hia 
granddaughter's inquiries aud to answer them ; be seemed 
to ponder a few minutes and then in bis qaavering but 
distinct voice, replied, — 

" Jehovah aaya : ' I made you a prophet, a guardian over 
larael ! Hear my words and repeat tbem to tbe people. 
If you do thia, I ahall call yon a faithful servant, if you 
remain ailent, on your head be tbe woes of Israel. 

The old voice became silent, but Meir liatened still with 
glowing eyes. Then he pointed into the dark room and 
said, — 

" He has aaid the truth ! through hia month haa apoken 

the old covenant of Moaes, tbe one true covenant,'' 

Tears gleamed in Golda's eyes, but Meir saw them not, 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 188 

SO deeply was he engaged in thoughts which fired his whole 
being. He gently bent his head before the girl and went 
away. She remained in the open window. Her bearing 
was quiet, but silent tears one after the other rolled down 
her thin face, — 

"They beheaded the prophet Hosea, and drove the 
prophet Jeremiah out of Jerusalem,'^ she whispered. 

Meir, at a distance from the hut, raised his face to 
heaven. " Rabbi Akiba died in great tortures for his con- 
victions,^^ he murmured. 

Golda's eyes followed him still, though she could not see 
him any longer, and folding her hands, she murmured : — 

" Like Euth said to Naomi, I will say to the light of my 
soul, ^ Whither thou goest, I will go ; where thou diest, I 
will die ! ' '' 

In this way these two children, thoroughly imbued witli 
the old history and legends of Israel, which represented to 
them all worldly knowledge, drew from them comfort and 
courage. 



^t 184 



MEIH EZOFOVITCH. 



CHAPTER IV. 



L 



The day had scarcely begun to tiawn wlien, in Kami- 
onker'a houae, everybody, except the Bmallest children, 
waa awake and stirring. It waa a red-letter day for the 
landlord of the inn, aa it waa the principal fair, which 
brought crowds of people of all sorts to the town. Both 
Jankiel's daughters, two strong and slatternly girls, with 
the help of the boy Mendel, whose stupid, malicious face 
bore the traces of Reb Mosze'a training, were busy pre- 
paring the two guest rooms for the arrival of distinguished 
customers. Next to the guests' rooms was the large bar- 
room, where, during the fair, crowds of country people 
were wont to drink and to dance. The servant tried to 
clean the benches around the wall and made a scanty lire 
in the great black stove, as the morning was cool and the 
air damp and musty. In Jankiel's room, the first from 
the entrance, and the window of which looked upon the yet 
empty market-square, stood two people, Jankiol and his 
wife Jenka, both at their morning prayers. 

Jankiel, dressed in his everyday gaberdine and black 
kerchief twisted round his neck, rocked his body violently 
and prayed in a loud voice : 

" Blessed be the Lord of the world that he has not made 
I heathen ! 
Hleased he the Lord that he has not made me a slave ! 




MEIR EZOFOVITCU. 186 

" Blessed be the Lord that he has not made me a 
woman ! " 

At the same time Jenka, dressed in a blue sleeveless 
caftan and short petticoat, bent her body in short, jerky 
motions, and in a voice much lower than her husband^s, 
began : 

** Blessed be the Lord of the world that has made me 
according to his will ! " 

Rocking to and fro, she sighed heavily : 

*' Blessed be the Lord who gives strength to the tired 
and drives away from the eyes sleep and weariness ! " 

Then Jankiel took up the white tallith with the black 
border, and, wrapping in its soft folds, exclaimed : 

^^ Blessed be the Lord who enlightened us with his Law 
and bade us to cover ourselves with the tallith ! " 

He put the philacteries, or holy scroll, upon his fore- 
head and wrists, saying, — 

^^ I betroth myself forever, betroth myself unto the 
truth, unto the everlasting grace . . . '' 

Both husband and wife were so absorbed in their pray- 
ers that they did not hear the quick step of a man. 

Meir Ezofovitch crossed the room where Jankiel and his 
wife were praying, and the next, which was full of beds 
and trunks, where the two smaller children were still 
asleep, and opened the door of his friend^s room. 

There was as yet only a dim light in the little room, 
where Eliezer stood at the window and prayed. He 
recognized his friend's step, but did not interrupt his 
prayers, only raised his hands as if inviting him to 
join,— 



r 



186 MEIB EZOFOVITCU. 

"Oh, Ijord of hosts, how long wilt thou be angry agaiust 
the prayer of thy people ? " 

Meir atood a few steps apart and responded, as tiie 
people respond to the singer : 

"Thou feedest them with the bread of stonea, and givest 
them teara to drink in great measure." 

"Thou makest us a strife unto our neighbors and our 
enemies langli among themeehes," intonated Eliezer, 

In this way the two friends sang one of the most beauti- 
ful complaints that over rose from earth to heaven. Every 
word is a tear, every verse a melody expressing the tragic 
history of a great people. 

There was as different an expression in the faces of the 
two young men as their characters were unlike each other. 
Eliezer'e blue eyes were full of tears, hia delicate features 
full of dreaminess and rapture. 

Meir stood erect, his burning eyes fixed in the eky, 
and his brow was nontracted, as if in pain or anger. 
Tliey both prayed from the depths of their hearts until 
the end, and then their formerly united sodIb parted. 
Eliezer intonated the prayer for the Wise Men of 
Israel : 

"0 Lord of heaven! guard and watch over the Wise 
Men of Israel, their wives, children, and disciples, always 
and everywhere ! Say unto me amen ! " 

Meir did not say amen. He was silent. The singer 
seemed to wait for his response, when Meir, slightly rais- 
ing his voice, said, with qnivering lips : 

'• Guard, Lord, and watch over onr brethren in Israel 
that live in sin and darkness, always and everywhere, bring 



MEin EZOFOVITCIL 187 

them from darkness into light, from bondage into free- 
dom ! Say unto me amen ! " 

'^ Amen ! " exclaimed Eliezer, turning towards his friend, 
and their hands met in a hearty grasp. 

'^ Eliezer," said Meir, ^'you look changed since I saw 
. you last/^ 

*' And you, Meir, look different/^ 

Only a week had passed over their heads ; sometimes 
one week means as much as ten years. 

^*I have suffered much during that week,'* whispered 
the singer. 

Meir did not complain. 

^' Eliezer ! '^ he said, " give me ' More Nebuchim.' I came 
to you so early to ask for that book. I want it very much ! ^' 

Eliezer. stood with his head hanging down dejectedly. 

'^ I have not got the book any longer, '* he said in a low 
voice. 

*' Where is it ? '^ asked Meir. 

'^ The book which brought us light and comfort is no 
more. The fire has devoured it and the ashes are scattered 
to the winds.'* 

" Eliezer ! " burst out Meir, ^^have you got frightened 
and burned it ? " 

" My hands could never have committed the deed ; even 
had my mouth commanded it, they would not have obeyed. 
A week ago my father came to me in a great fury and or- 
dered me to give up the accursed book, we had been read- 
ing together on the meadow. He shouted at me, ' Have 
you got that book ?* I said, *I have.* He then asked, 
* Where is it ?* I remained silent. He looked as if he 



r 



MEIll EZOFOVITCM. 

would bave liked to beat me, but did not dare on account of 
my position in the synagogue and the love people bear me, 
He then ranaaeked the whole room and at last found it 
under the pillow. lie wanted to carry it to the rabbi, 
but I knelt before him and begged him not to do so, as lie 
would not allow me to sing any more and deprive me o£ 
the love people have for me and my singing. Father 
seemed struck by my remark because he is proud that a 
son of hia, and one so young in years, holds such a position, 
and thinks also that when hia son ainga and praye before 
the Lord, the Lord will prosper him in hia business and 
forgive all his ains. So he did not take the book to the 
rabbi, but thrust it into the fire and when it burned and 
crackled, he leaped and danced for joy." 

" And you, Eliezer, you looked on, and did nothing ? " 
" What could I do ? " whispered the singer, 
" I should liave put the book on my breast, protected it 
with my arms, and said to the father, ' If you wish to bum 
it, bnrn me with it.'" 

Meir said this with indignation, almost anger, against his 
friend. 

Eliezer stood before him with downcast eyes, sad and 
humblGd. " I could not," he whispered, " I was afraid 
they would deprive me of my office and denounce me as an 
infidel. But look at me, Meir, and judge from it how I 
loved our Master ; since he was taken away from me, my 
face has shniuk and my eyes are red from tears," 

" Oh ! tears ! tears ! tears ! " exclaimed Meir throwii^ 
himself upon a chair and pressing his throbbing temples 
with both hands, "always those tears and tears !" he re* 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 189 

peated with a half-sarcastic, half -sorrowful voice. " You 
may weep forever, and do no good either to yourself or 
others. Eliezer ! I love you, even as a brother ; but I do 
not like your tears and do not care to look at your reddened 
eyes. Eliezer, do not show me tears any more, show me 
eyes full of fire and a powerful voice. The people love 
you and would follow you like a child its mother." Scold- 
ing and upbraiding his friend, Meir's eyes betrayed a 
moisture which not wishing to betray he buried his face 
in both hands. " Oh Eliezer ! what have you done to give 
np that book? Where shall we go now for advice and 
comfort ? Where shall we find another teacher ? The 
flames have consumed the soul of our souls and the ashes 
have been thrown to the winds. If the spirit of the Mas- 
ter saw it, he will say : * My people have cursed me again,' " 
and tears dropped through his fingers upon the rough deal 
table. Suddenly, he stopped his laments and changing his 
position fell into a deep reverie. 

Eliezer opened the window. 

The sandy ground of the market square seemed divided 
in long slanting paths of red and gold, by the rays of the 
rising sun. Along one of these shiny paths towards 
Kamionker's house came a powerful, barefooted man. His 
heavy step sounded near the window where the two young 
men were sitting, Meir raised his head, the man had 
passed already but the short glimpse of the matted red 
hair and swollen face was enough for Meir to identify him 
as the carrier Jochel. 

A few minutes later two men dressed in black passed 
near the window. One of them was tall, stately, and smil- 



I 



J hair and a ' 



190 MEIR EZOFOriTCH. 

iiig, the other elightly stooping liad iron-gray 1: 
wrinkled brow. They were Moreine Kalman and Abram 
Ezofoviteh. They evidently had not crossed the square 
but passed along the back streets almost stealthily as if to 
avoid being seen. Both disappeared in the entrance ot 
Kamiouker'a house, where Jochel had preceded them. 
Eliezer looked iip from his book where he had been reading. 

" Meir," he said, '■ why do you look so stern, I have 
never seen you look so stern before," 

Meir did not seem to have heard his friend's remark. 

His eyes were fixed upon the floor, and lie murmured, — 

' ' My uncle Abram I my uncle Abram ! woe to our house, 
ghame and ignominy to the house of Ezofoviteh I" 

In the nest room, divided from Eliezer's by a thin wall, 
loud voices and bustle were audible. Jankiel shouted at 
his wife to go away and take the children with her. Jenka'a 
low shoes clattered upon the floor and the suddenly roused 
children began to squall. By degrees the noise sounded 
fainter and farther off. Then the floor resounded with 
the steps of men, chairs were drawn together, and a lively 
discussion in low yet audible voices began. Meir suddenly 
rose. 

" Eliezer I " he whispered, " let us go away." 

" Why should we go away ?" said the young man, raising 
his head from his book. 

" Because the walls are thin," began Meir. 

He did not finish, because from the other side of the 
wall came tlie violent exclamation from his uncle Abram, — 

"I did not know anything about that ; you did not tell 
nie, Jankiel." 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 191 

The mirthless, bilious cackle of Jankiel interrupted, " I 
know a thing or two,^^ he exclaimed, '^knew that you 
Abram, would not easily agree to it. I shall manage that 
without your help/^ 

'^Hush!^^ hissed' Ealman. The voices dropped again 
to a whisper. 

*^Eliezer, go away I" insisted Meir. 

The singer did not seem to understand. 

^*Eliezer ! do you want to honor your father, as it is 
commanded from Sinai ? " 

Kamionker^s son sighed. 

'^ I pray to Jehovah that I may honor him.^* 

Meir grasped him by the hand. 

'^ Then go at once ! go ! if you stop here any longer 
you will never be able to honor your father again ! " He 
spoke so impressively that Eliezer grew pale and began to 
tremble. 

*'How can I go now, if they are discussing secrets 
there ? " The voice of Jankiel became again distinctly 
audible : ' The chaiet Izmul is desperately poor, the 
carrier Jockel is a thief, — both will be well paid. 

"And the peasants who carted the spirit?'' asked 
Abram. Jankiel laughed. 

"They are safe; their souls and bodies and every- 
thing that belongs to them is pledged to my inn- 
keepers.'^ 

" Hush ! " whispered again the phlegmatic, therefore 
cautious, Ealman. 

Eliezer trembled more and more. A ray of light had 
pierced his dreamy brain. 



192 MKIR EZOFOriTCn. 

' Meir ! Meir !" he whispered " how can I get away ? I 
am afraid to cross the room, they might think T had 
overheard their aecretg." 

Meir with one hand puslied the table from the window, 
and with the other helped his friend to push throngli. 
In a second, Eliozer had disappeared from the room. Mtir 
drew himself up and murmured, — 

■' I will show myself now and let tiiem know that soibp- 
body has heard their conversation," 

Then he opened the low door and entered into the next 
room. There near the wall, on three chairs closely drawn 
together, sat three men. A small table stood betwL'CU 
them. Kalman. in his satin garment, looked calm anJ 
self-posseBBed, Jankiel and Ahram rested their elbows on 
the table. The first was red with excitement and his eyw 
glittered with a malicions, greedy light ; the latter looked 
pale and troubled, and kept his eyea lised upon the floor : 
but nothing was capable of disturbing the smiling equa- 
nimity of Kalman. .When Meir entered the room he heanl 
distinctly his uncle's word, — 

" And if the whole place burns down with the spirit 
vaults ? " 

'■ Ah ! ah !" sneered Jankiel, "what does it ma,tter ? one 
Edomite more will become a beggar ! " 

Here the speaker stoppod and began to shake as if in 
rage or terror. Ho saw Meir coming into the room. His 
two companions also saw him. Kalman'a month openeii 
wide. Abrani looked threatening, but his eyes fell before 
the hold yet sorrowful glance of his nephew, and his hand.; 
began to tremble, Meir slowly crossed the room ami 



MEIE EZOFOVITCn. 193 

entered into the next, where Jochel stood near the stove 
staring absently at his bare toes. 

Jankiel sent a malediction after the retreating figure. 
The two others were silent. 

''Why did you bring us in such an unsafe place?" 
asked at last Kalman, in his evien voice. 

'' Why did you not warn us that somebody might hear 
from the other side of the wall ? " said Abram impetuously. 
Jankiel explained that it was his son's room who did not 
know anything about business and never paid the slightest 
attention to what was going on around him. 

'' How would I know that cursed lad was there ; he must 
have entered like a thief, through the window. Well ! '^ 
he said, after a while, ''what does it matter if he heard ? 
He is an Israelite, one of us, and dare not betray his own 
people.'* 

"He may dare," repeated Kalman, "but we will keep 
an eye upon him, and if he as much as breathes a syllable 
of what he heard we will crush him." 

Abram rose. 

" You may do what you like," he said impulsively. " I 
wash my hands of the whole business." 

Jankiel eyed him with a malicious expression." 

" Very well," he said, " in that case, there will be all the 
more for us two. Those who risk will get the money." 
Abram sat down again. His nervous face betrayed the 
inward struggle. Jankiel, who had a piece of chalk in his 
hand, began writing on a black tablet, — 

" Eight thousand gallons of spirit at four roubles the 

gallon makes thirty-two thousand roubles. These divided 
13 



194 MIER EZOFOVITCff. 

into three make ten thousand six hundred sixty-six roubles 
sixty-six and one third kopecks. Six hundred roubles to 
each of the two^ Jochel and Izmul^ and there remains for 
each of us ten thousand sixty-six roubles, sixty-six and 
one third kopecks/^ Abram rose again. He did not speak 
but twisted his handkerchief convulsively with both hands. 
Then he raised his eyes and asked, — 

^' And when will it come off ?" 

" It will come off very soon " said Jankiel. 

Abram said nothing further, and without saying good- 
bye, swiftly left the room. 

The large market square showed signs of life. Long 
strings of carts and people began arriving from all direc- 
tions. Inside the houses and shops, everybody was busy 
preparing for the day^s business. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 195 



CHAPTER V. 

In EzofovitcVs house the inmates had risen earlier than 
usual on this day. The part of the home inhabited by 
Rafael and Ber with their families resounded with gay 
and lively conversation. Various objects of trade, with 
their corresponding money value were mentioned. Some- 
times the calculations were interrupted by remarks in 
feminine voices which occasioned laughter or gay exclama- 
tions. Everything showed the peace and contentment of 
people who strove after the well-being of their families and 
lived in mutual confidence and harmony. 

The large sitting-room smelt of pine branches which 
were scattered upon the even cleaner than usually floor. 
On the old-fashioned high-backed sofa, before a table spread 
with fine linen, sat old Saul and sipped his fragrant tea. 
The huge samovar had been taken down from the cup- 
board and gleamed with red coals and hissed and steamed 
in the next room, where a large kitchen fire illuminated 
the long table and white scrubbed benches. The steam- 
ing of the samovar, the great kitchen fire and fresh cur- 
tains everywhere, together with the unusual stir of all the 
inmates, showed distinctly that many visitors were expected 
and preparations made accordingly. 

But it was yet early in the day and Saul sat alone, relish- 
ing evidently the atmosphere of well-being and orderliness 



I 



196 MEIB EZOFOVITCH. 




ttnd the sounds of the busy life filling the house from top 
to basement. It was one of those moments, not rare by 
any means in Saul's life, wlieu he realized the many bless- 
ings which the Lord had bestowed upon his house and 
gladdened his old age with. 

Suddenly the door opened and Meir entered. The 
happy expression vanished from Saul's wrinkled face. 
The Bight of the grandson reminded him of the thorn 
whiah-lurked amidst the flowers. The very look of the 
young man acted aa a false or stormy accord amidst a gay 
and peaceful melody. Trouble was depicted on his pule 
face, and his eyes looked indignant and angry. He entered 
boldly and quickly, hut meeting the eyes of his grandfather 
he bent his head and his step became lower. Formerly 
he naod to approach his father and benefactor with the 
confidence and tenderness of a favorite child. Now he 
felt that between him and the old man there rose a 
barrier, which became higher and harder every day. He 
knew it was he himself who, by words and deeds, had raised 
that barrier, and hia heart yearned for the old love and for 
a kind look from the old man, who met bis eyes with a 
stern and angry face ; he approached him, therefore, 
timidly, and said in a sad, entreating voice, — 

'■ Zeide ! I should like to apeak with you about impor- 
tant business." 

The humble attitude of the once favorite child molli- 
fied the old man ; he looked leas stern, and said shortly but 
gently, "Speak out." 

" Zeide, permit me to shut the door and windows so 
that nobody hears what I have to say." 




feul 



IHEIR EZOFOVITCn. 197 

Shnt them/' replied Saul, and waited with troubled 

ie for the grandson to begin." 

Meir, after Ehuttiiig the door und windows, ctune close to 
lis gi-findfather and began, — 

Zeide ! I know that my words will bring you trouble 
and sorrow, but I have nobody to go to ; you were to 
me father and mother, and wlien in trouble I come to 
you." His voice shook perceptibly. The grandfather soft- 
eued, 

"Tell me everything ; though I have reason to be angry 
with you, because you are not what I should like to see 
you, I cannot forget that you are the eon of my son who 
left me so early. If you have troubles I will take them 
from yon, if anybody has wronged you, I will stand up for 
you and pnnish him," 

These words soothed and comforted the young man. 
I "Zeide !" he said in a bolder tone, "thanks to you, I 
iiave no troubles of my own and nobody has wronged me. 
But I have come across a terrible secret and do not know 
what to do with it, as I cannot keep it concealed. I 
thought 1 would tell you, so that yon, zeide, with the 
authority of your gray hair might prevent a, great crime 
and a great shame." 

Saul looked at his grandson half anxiously half ciiri- 

iij. 

It is better people should not know any eeerets or 
trouble about any, but I know if you do not speak to me, 
you will speak to somebody else and troubles might come 
from it. Say, then, what is that terrible secret ? " 
Meir answered. 



3 ItBIR BZOFOriTCB. 

' This IB the secret : Jankiel Kamionker, as joii know, 
zeide, rents the distillery from the Lord of Kamionka- 
He distilled during the season six tliousand gallons ol 
BpiritB, but did not sell any aa prices were low. Xow 
prices have risen and he wants to sell, but does not want to 
pay the high government taxcB. 

" Speak lower " — interrupted S&ul, whose face betrayed 
great nneasiness." 

Meir lowered his voice, almost to a, whisper. ' 

"In order not to pay the taxes, Eamionker last nig'li*' 
carted away all the spirits to tiie Karaite's hill, where lii"^ 
innkeepers from all parts, came to bargain for it and hxi^ 
it up. But he thonght what would become of him if tl- 
govemment officials came down to visit the vaults ant* 
did not Snd the spirits. He would be held answerable aniZ 
punished. Then he hired two people. 'Zeide! hetempted 
two miserable outcasts to — " 

"Hash !" exclaimed Saul, in a low voice. "Be quiet, 
do not say a word more. I can guess the rest." 

The old man's hands trembled and his shaggy eyebroffs 
bristled in a heavy frown. 

Meir was silent and looked with expectant eyes at 1 
grandfather. 

" Your mouth has spoken what is not true ; it cannot 
true." 

" Zeide ! " whispered Meir, " it is as true as the sun 
heaven." "Have you not heard, zeide, of the accidents 
that happened last year and lust year but one ? Theaj 
accidents are getting more and more numeroua, and evei 
true Israelite deplores it, and reddens with shame 1 " 



MEIR BZOFOVITCH. 



199 



■' How can you know all this ? How can you underetaml 

ise things ? I do not believe you." 

■' How do I know and understand it. Zeide, I have been 
I brought up in your house, where mauy people come to see 
you ; Jews and Christians, merchaiita and lords, rich and 
I poor. They talked with you and I listened. Why should 
I I not nnderstand ? " Saul was silent, and his troubled 
1 countenance betrayed many conflicting thoughts. A 
r STidden anger toward the grandson stirred his blood. 

' You understand too much ! you are too inquisitive. 
■ "Your spirit is full of restleasnesa, and you carry trouble 
I with you wherever you go. I felt so happy to-day until 
I my eye fell upon you and black care entered with you into 
I the room." 

Meir hung his head. 

" Zeide," he said sadly, " why do yon reproach me ? It 
is not about my own affairs I came to jou." 

" And what right have you to meddle with affairs that 
I are not yourown ?" said Saul, with hesitation in his voice. 

"They are our own, zeide. Kamionker is an Israelite, 
and as such ought not to cast a slnr on our race ; besides, 
I they we our own, still more because your son, zeide, Abram 
^ ijelongB to it," 

"My son Abram ?" 

Saul rose suddenly from the sofa and fell back again. 
h Then he fixed his penetrating eyes upon Meir. 

" Are you speaking the truth ?" he asked, sternly, 

"I have seen and heard it all myself," whispered Meir. 

Saul remained thinking a long time. 

" Well," he said, slowly, " you have the right to accuse 



" 200 MBIR KZOFOVTTCn. 




V 20( 

^H yotir tincle. He is your father's brother, and from \m 

^H deed siiame and iguominj might come upon our houss. 

^B The family of Ezofovitch never did dishonorable things. 

^1 I shall forbid Abram to have anything to do with it." 

^ " Zeide ! tell also Kamionker and Kalnian not to do it." 

' ' Yon are foolish," said Saul ; " are Kamionker and KaU 

man my sons or my daughters' husbands ? Tliey would not 

listen to me." 

"If they do not listen, zeide," exclaimed Meir, "denounce 
them before the owner of Kamionka or before the law." 
Saul looked at his grandson with flaming eyes. 
" Your advioe is that of a foolish boy. Would you have 
your old grandfather turn informant, and bring calamity 
upon his own brethren ? " 

He wanted to say something more, bnt the door opened 
to admit several visitors ; they were Israelites from the 
country, grave merchants or farmers from the neiglihoring 
estates, arrived for the great fair. Saul half rose to wel- 
come his guests, who quickly stepping up to him, pressed 
his hand in hearty greeting, and explained tiiat it was not 
BO much business as the desire to see the wise and honored 
Saul, which had brought them to town. Saul answered 
with an equally polite speech, and asked them to be seated 
round the table, and without leaving his own seat on the 
sofa, clapped his bony hands. At this signal a buxom 
servant girl came in, with glasses of steaming tea, which 
filled the whole room with its subtle aroma. The guests 
thanked him smilingly, and then began a lively conversa- 
tion about familiar subjects. 

Meir saw that he would have no further opportunity of 



MEIli EZOFOVITCn. 201 

seeing his grandfather alone, and quickly left the room and 
went into the kitchen. This also was full of visitors, but 
of another class than those in the sitting-room. Upon the 
benches, near the wall, sat some fifteen men in old worn- 
out garments, and Sara, Saul's daughter, and Rafael's 
wife, Saul's daughter-in-law, conversed with them and 
offered tea or mead, and other refreshments. 

The men responded gayly, if somewhat timidly, and 
accepted the refreshments with humble thanks. Most of 
them were innkeepers, dairy farmers, or small tradesmen 
from the country. Their dark, lean faces and rough hands 
betrayed poverty and hard work. The smallest expense for 
food, during their stay in town, would have made a diJfference 
to them. They went, tlierefore, straight to Ezofovitch's 
house, whose doors were always hospitably open on such 
days, as had been the custom of the family for hundreds 
of years. 

The two women, in their silk gowns, and bright caps, 
flitted to and fro between the huge fireplace and the grate- 
ful visitors. Outside the house there was another class of 
visitors, those were the very poorest, who had not come to 
buy or to sell at the fair, but to obtain some wine and food 
out of .the charity of their wealthier brethren. To these 
the servant carried bread and clotted milk, and small 
copper coins. The murmur of their thanks and blessings 
penetrated to the kitchen, where tlie two busy women 
smiled yet more contentedly, and produced more small 
coins from their capacious pockets. 

In another part of the roomy kitchen or rather living 
room, stood the children of the house, pleased with their 



r 



MEIB EZOFOVITCll. 
pretty dresses and coral necklaces, eating sweets. The 
elder boys listened to the converBStion of the men, and a 
few of the younger children played on the floor. Close to 
this group sat the great grandmother, Freida. Days like 
tills conveyed to her clouded memory, pictures of the past, 
when she herself, a happy wife and mother, looked after the 
comforts of her nnmerous gueata. The great-grauddaugii- 
ters had roused her earlier to-day than usual, and dressed 
her in the costliest garments, and now, before she would 
be led into the sitting-room to her chair near the window, 
they were completing her toilette. The black-eyed Lia 
fastened the diamond star into the turban, her younger 
Bister arranged the pendants, another put around the 
wrinkled neck, the costly pearls and twisted the golden 
chain cunningly amidst the soft folds of the white apron. 
Doing this they smiled and drew back a little to admire the 
effect of their handiwork, or peered roguishly into the great 
grandmother's eyes and kissed her on the forehead. The 
men sitting round the wall nodded their heads sympathet- 
ically, looked reverentially at the old lady and now and 
then exclamations of wonder and pleasure at seeing the 
old lady surrounded by such tender care, escaped their lips. 

The other part of the house which liad been bo lively early 
in the morning, was now silent and deserted, Meir crossed 
the narrow passage which divided the house, and opened 
the door of his uncle Rafael's rooms, and met upon the 
threshold his friend and cousin Chaim. The youthful, 
almost childish face, surrounded by golden hair, looked 
beaming and escited. 

" Where is Uncle Rafael ?" asked Meir. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 203 

" Where should he be ? He is at the fair together with 
Ber, buying bullocks/' 

" And you, Chaim, where are you going ? " 

But the lad did not even hear the question ; trilling a 
gay song he had rushed off where the stir and lively spec- 
tacle of the fair attracted him. 

Meir went out into the porch and looked around. The 
fair had scarcely begun, but in the midst of some forty 
carts he saw Ber discussing the prices of the cattle with 
the peasants. Farther on a little, he saw Eafael standing 
in the porch of one of the houses surrounded by merchants, 
evidently discussing business, as all their fingers were in 
motion. To approach these two men, who after his grand- 
father, had the greatest authority in the family, and en- 
gage them in private talk was impossible. Meir saw that 
and did not even try. 

The sight of the motley crowd, where everybody was en- 
gaged upon some business of his own, looked to him 
strange and unreal. His thoughts were so different from 
any thoughts which moved that busy multitude. 

" Why should it trouble me ? " he murmured. '' What 
can I do ? " And yet it seemed to him impossible to wait 
in passive inactivity until a red glare in the sky should an- 
nounce that the nefarious design had been accomplished. 

" What wrong has the man ever done us ? ^' he said to 
himself. He was thinking of the owner of Kamionka. 

His dull, listless eyes rested upon the porch of Witebski's 
house, and he saw the merchant himself standing and 
smoking leisurely a cigar. He looked at the lively scene 
with the eyes of a man who has nothing whatever to do 



r 



204 WE/fi KZOFOVirCII. 

with it. The fact is, he dealt in timber whieli he bought 
in large quantities from the estates, tlierefore tlie fair had 
no special attraction for him. Beeides, he considered him- 
self too refined and thought too highly of his own biisineaa, 
to mix with a crowd occupied with selling and buying com 
or cattle. 

Meir descended the steps and went away towards Witeb- 
ski, who seeing him, smiled and stretched out a friendly 
hand. 

" A rare visitor ! a rare visitor," he exclaimed. " But I 
know that you could not come sooner to see the parents of 
your betrothed. We heard how the severe grandfather 
ordered you to sit in Bet-ha-Midrash to read the Talmud. 
Well, it does not matter much, does it ? The zeide is a 
dear old man and did not mean it unkindly, jnst as you 
did not mean to do any wrong. Young people will now 
and then cut over the traces. Come into the drawing- 
room, I will call my wife and she will make you welcome 
as a dear son-in-law." 

The worldly-wise merchant spoke smilingly, and holding 
Meir by the hand, led him into the drawing-room. There 
before the green sofa he stood still and looked archly into 
Meir's face and said, — 

" It is very praiseworthy, Meir, that you are bashful and 
shy of your future wife, I was the same at your age, and 
all young men ought to feel like that ; but my daughter 
has been brought up in the world, where customs are 
somewhat different. She is wondering and sad that she 
does not know even the fianc6 who is to be her hus- 
band within a month, I will go and bring her here. No- 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 205 

body need know yon are together^ I will shut the door and 
window^ and yon can have a quiet talk together and make 
each other's acquaintance/' He was moving towards the 
door, but Meir grasped him by the sleeve. 

^' Rebe ! '' he said, " I am not thinking of betrothals or 
weddings, I came to you on a different errand altogether.' 

Witebski looked sharply at the grave and pale face of 
the young man and his brow became slightly clouded. 

^' It is not about my own affairs I have come to you, 
Rebe — ,'' the merchant quickly interrupted, — 

^^ If it be neither your affair nor mine, why enter it ? " 

'* There are affairs," said the young man '* which belong 
to everybody, and it is everybody's duty to think and 
speak of them." 

He was thinking of public affairs, but though he did not 
express himself in these words, he felt all their importance. 

"I have come across an awful secret to-day." 

Witebski jumped up from the easy chair where he was 
sitting. 

** I do not want to hear about any awful secrets ! Why 
should you come to me about it, when I am not curious to 
know anything ? " 

" I want you, Eebe, to prevent a terrible deed." 

*^And why should I prevent anything; why do you 
come to me about it ? " 

^^ Because you are rich and respected, and know how to 
speak. You live in peace and friendship with everybody ; 
even the great rabbi smiles when he sees you. Your 
words can do much if you only would. " 

*' But I will not," interrupted Witebski in a determined 



r 




MEIR EZOFOVITCff. 
voice and with clouded brow. " I am rich and live in peace 
with everybody ; " and lowering his voice, he added, " If 
I began to peer into people's secrets and thwarted them, I 
should be neither rich nor live in peace with anybody, and 
thinga wonld not have gone so well with me as they are 
going now." 

"Uebe!" said Meir, "I am glad that everything is 
prospering with yon, but I should not care for prosperity 
if it were the result of wrongdoing." 

" Who speaks about wrongdoing l'" said Eli, brighten- 
ing up agaiu. "I wrong no man, I deal honestly with 
everybody I do business with, and they are satisfied and 
feel friendly towards me. Thanks to the Lord, I can look 
everybody in the face, and upon the fortune I leave my 
children, there are no human tears or human wrongs," 

Meir bent his head respectfully. 

" I know it, Rebe. You are fair and honest, and carry 
on your business with the wise intelligence the Lord gaye 
yon, and bring honor upon Israel, But I think if a man 
be honest himself, he ought not to look indifferently upon 
other people's villainy ; and if he do not prevent it when 
he can, it is as bad as if he had done it himself. I have 
heard that a great wrong is going to be done by an 
Israelite to an innocent man. I can do nothing to prevent 
it and I am looking for somebody who might be able to 
save an innocent man from a great calamity," 

Here quite unexpectedly a loud and jovial langh inter- 
rupted Meir's speech and Witebski patted him playfully 
on the shoulder. 

Well, well," he said, " I see what yon are driving lit. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 207 

You are a hot-headed youth and want to take some trouble 
out of your own head and put it into mine. Thank you for 
the gift, but I will none of it. Let things be, why should 
we spoil our lives when it could be made so pleasant ? 
There sit ye down, and I will go and bring your fiancee. 
You have never heard her play on the piano, ah ! but she 
can play well. It is not the Sabbath and she will play 
and you can listen a little.^' 

He said this in his most lively manner, and moved to- 
wards the door ; but again Meir arrested his steps. 

'^ Rebe ! " he said, " listen at least to what I have to say." 

There was a gleam of impatience in Witebski's eyes. 

*^ Ah, Meir ! what an obstinate fellow you are, wanting 
to force your elders to do or hear things they do not want 
to. Well, I forgive you, and now let me go and bring the 
young woman." 

Meir barred him the way. 

*^ Rebe ! " he said, " I will not let you go before you have 
heard me. I have nobody else to go to, everybody is 
occupied with business or visitors. You alone, Eebe, have 
time." 

He stopped, because the merchant laid his hand upon 
the young man's shoulder ; he did not smile any longer, but 
looked grave and displeased. 

"Listen, Meir," he said, ^'I will tell you one thing. 
You have taken a wrong turning altogether. People 
shake their heads and speak badly of you ; but I am in- 
dulgent with you. I make allowance because you are 
young and because I am not of the same way of thinking 
as the people here ; and know that many things in Israel 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 



lo not speak 1 



H 208 

^M lire not as thej ought to be. I tliiuk it ; bnt do i: 

^1 about it or show it. Why ebould I expose myself to their 

^M ill-feeling ? What can I do ? If it be the Lord who 

^1 ordered it so, why should I offend Him and make Kim 

^F turn against me ? If it be people's doing, other people 

will come iu time to set ifc right. My busineBS is to look 

after my family and their well-being. I am not a judge 

or a rabbi either ; therefore I keep quiet, try to please God 

and the people, and be in nobody's way. These are my 

principles and I wish they were yours also, Meir. Ishonld 

not give advice to you either and let yon go your own way ; 

but since yon are to be my son-in-law, I must keep my eye 

upon you." 

" Eebe ! " interrupted Meir, whose eyelids quivered with 
auppreaaed Jritation, " do not be angry with me or think me 
rude, but I cannot marry your daughter : I shall never be 
her husband. " 
Witebski turned rigid with amazement. 
"Down hear aright ?" he said, after awhile. "Did not 
your grandfather pledge you to her and send the betrothal 
gifts?" 

"My grandfather agreed with you about it," said Meir, in 
a trembling voice — " but he did it against my wish." 

" Well," said AVitebski with the greatest amazement " and 
what have you to say against my daughter ? " 

"I have no feelings against her, Rebe, but my heart is 
not drawn to her. She also does not care for me. The 
other day, when passing your house, I heard her crying 
and lamenting that they wanted her to marrj' a common 
iguorant Jew. Maybe I am a common, ignorant Jew, but 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 209 

her education is likewise not to my taste. Why should you 
wish to bind us ? We are not children, and know what our 
heart desires and what it does not desire/^ 

Witebski still looked at the young man in utter bewil- 
derment, and raising both hands to his head exclaimed 
indignantly,— 

" Did my ears not deceive me ? You do not want my 
daughter, my beautiful, educated Mera ? '^ 

A hot blush had mounted to his forehead. The gentle 
diplomatist and man of the world had disappeared, only the 
outraged father remained. 

At the same time the door was violently thrown open, 
and upon the threshold, with a very red face and blazing 
eyes, stood Mistress Hana. 

She had been evidently at her toilette which was only 
partly completed. Instead of her silk gown she wore a 
short, red petticoat and gray jacket. The front of her wig 
was carefully dressed, but a loose braid fastened by a string 
dangled gracefully on her back. 

She stood upon the threshold and gasped out, — 

*^ I have heard everything. '^ 

She could not say any more from excitement. Her breast 
heaved and her face was fiery red. At last she rushed with 
waving arras at Meir, and shouted, — 

^^ What is that ? You refuse my daughter ! You, a 
common, stupid Jew from Szybow, do not wish to marry a 
beautiful, educated girl like my Mera ? Fie upon you for 
an idiot and a profligate ! ^^ 

Witebski tried in vain to mitigate the fury of his better 

half. 
14 



r 



210 MHIR EZOFOVITCU. 



' the elbow. ' 



•' Hush, Hana ! hush," he said, holding her by the e 

But all the breeding and distinguished manners upon 
which MistreBs Hana prided herself had vauiahed. She 
shook her clenched fist close into Meir's face. 

" You do not want Mera, my beautiful daughter ? Ai ! 
ai ! the great misfortune." she sneered, " it will certainly 
kill us with grief. She will cry her eyes out after the igno- 
rant Jew from Szybow. I shall take her to Wilna and marry 
her to a count, a general, or to a prince. You think that 
because your grandfather is rich and you have money of 
your own, you can do what you like. I will show your 
grandfather and all your family that I care for them aa 
much aa for an old slipper." 

Eli carefully closed the door and windows. Mistress Hana 
raahed toward a stand of drawers, opened it and took out, 
one after the other, the velvet-lined boxes, and throwing 
them at Meir's feet exclaimed, — 

" There, take your presents and cany them to the beg- 
gar girl you are conaorting with ; she will be just the wife 
for you." 

" Hush ! " hissed out, almost despairingly, the husband, 
and he stooped down to pick up the boxes ; but Mistress 
Hans tore them out of his hands. 

" I will carry them myself to his grandfather and break 
off the engagement." 

"Hana!" persuaded the husband, "you will only make 
matters worse, I will take them myself and speak with 
Saul." 

Haua did not even hear what he said. 

" For shame! " she cried out " the madman, the profligate, 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 211 

to prefer the Earaitist girl to my daughter. Well^ the 
Lord be thanked we have got rid of him ; now I shall take 
my daughter to Wilna and marry her to a great noble- 
man.^' 



OHAPTEK VI. 

It waaabont* noon when Meir lef t "Witebaki'a house, pur 

Bned by the curaea and scoldinga of its mistress and thG^ 
gentle remonstrances and conciliatory words of Eli. The^ 
(air was now in full awing. The large market square wa^a 
full of vehicles of all kinds, animals and people, that itss 

seemed aa ifnobody could pass orfiud room any longer. In 

one part of the square where the crowd was less dense, clos^^ 
to the wall of a large building, sat an old mim surrounded^ 
by baskets of all ahapea and sizes. 

It was Abel Karaim. 

Though the day was warm and sunny his head was covered 
with a fur cap, from under which streamed his white hair 
and his beard spread like a fan over his breast. The sun 
fell upon the small and thin face, sciircely visible from 
under the hair, and the fur which fell over the shaggy eye- 
brows gave but little protection to the dim eyes blinking in 
the aun. 

Close to him, slim and erect, stood Golda, with her corals 
encircling the slender neck aetting off the clear olive of 
her complexion and the heavy blaj:k tresses falling down 
her back, A few steps before these two, stood long rows of 
carts full of graiu, wood and varioua country produce ; be- 
tween the carta, bullocks and cows lowed, calves bleated, 
horses neighed and stamped, sm nil brokers and horaedealers 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 213 

flitted to and fro bargaining witli the peasants. In this 
hubbub of voices in midst of bargaining and quarrels mixed 
with the shrill voices of women and squalling children 
sounded the quavering voice of the old Abel unweariedly at 
his task of reciting. The surging elements around did not 
distract him, on the contrary they seemed to stimulate him 
as his voice sounded louder and more distinct. 

^^ When Moses descended from Mount Sinai, a great light 
shone from his face and the people fell down on their faces 
and called out as in one voice : Moses repeat to us the 
words of the Eternal. And a great calm came upon the 
earth and the heavens. They grew silent, the lightning 
ceased, and the wind fell : And Moses called the seventy 
elders of Israel and when they surrounded him, as the stars 
surround the moon, he repeated to them the words of the 
Eternal.'' 

At this moment, two grave men, poorly dressed, came 
from the crowd and passed close by him. 

*' He is reciting again,'' said one. 

" He always does," said the other. 

They smiled, but did not go further. An old woman 
and some younger people joined them. The woman stood 
listening and asked, — 

" What is it he is telling ? " 

^^ The history and the covenant of the Israelites," re- 
plied Golda. 

The young people opened their mouths, the woman drew 
nearer, the men smiled, but all stood still and listened. 

"When the people heard the commandments of the 
Lord, they called out as in one voice. We will do all that 



r2i4 MEin EzoForiTcn. 

the Lord commands. And Moaea erected twelve stones 
agaiiiHt tlie Mountain of Siuai, and eaid nnto the people : 
Keep therefore the words of this covenant ; your captains 
of yonr tribes, yonr elders, and your officers, with all the 
men of Israel. 

" Yonr little ones, your wives, and the stranger that is 
in thy camp, from the hewer of thy wood unto the drawer 
of thy water. " 

" He says beautiful things and speaks well," said one. 

"And the hewer of thy wood and the drawer of thy 
water," repeated two poorly dressed men and raised their 
shining eyes to heaven. Tiie woman, who had listened 
attentively, drew from her shahby gown a dirty handker- 
chief, and undoing one of the knots, deposited a big 
copper coin on Abel's knees. 

A few more had joined the little group which sur- 
rounded Abel, Jews, Christians, and young people. These 
few had torn themselves away from the noisy, haggling 
crowd and listened to other words than that of roubles 
and kopecks, the sounds of the far Past. It seemed 
almost as if Abel felt the attention of the people, and as if 
all these eyes fixed upon him warmed his heart and stirred 
his memory. His eyes shone brighter from under the half 
closed eyelids, the fur cap pushed at the baek of his head, 
and the long white hair falling upon breast and shoulder, 
gave him the air of a half-blind bard, who. with his 
national songs, rouses and gladdens the spirit of the 
people. In a louder and steadier voice he went on : — 

"When the Israelites crossed the Jordan, .Joshua 
erected two great stones and wrote upon them the ten 



MEiR EzoFarncn. 215 

commandments. One half of the people rested under 
Mount Gerisim, the other half under Mount Ebal, and the 
voice spoke unto all men. He breaks the covenant of the 
Lord who worships false gods, he who does not honor his 
father and mother. He breaks the covenant who covets 
his neighbor's property and leads astray the blind. He 
breaks it who wrongs the stranger, the orphan and the 
widow ; he who putteth a lie into his brother's ear, and 
aayeth of the innocent, let him die. And when the 
people of Israel heard it they called out, as if in one 
voice, All that thou commandest, we will do." 

"Amen," murmured around Ahel the voices which a 
short time before had haggled desperately over their small 
bargains. A peasant woman pushed through the little 
group, picked up one of the baskets and asked after the 
price. Golda told her, after which the woman began to 
bargain, but Golda did not answer again, not because she 
did not want to, as rather that she did not hear the shrill 
voice any longer. Her eyes were fixed upon one point in 
the crowd, a hot blush suffused her features, and a half 
childish half passionate smile played upon her lips. She 
saw Meir making his way through the crowd and coming 
near where she stood ; but he did not see her, his face 
looked troubled and restless, and presently he disappeared 
within the precincts of the synagogue. These were 
almost as crowded as the market square, but not so noisy. 
Meir went towards the dwelling of Rabbi Todroa ; all the 
people were moving in the same direction. Close to the 
rabbi's little hut the crowd was stili denser, but there 
was no noise, no pushing or eyes shining with the greedi- 



La 



21B MKIll EZOFOVTTCn. 



I 

^H nesa of gain ; a gruve silence prevailed everywhere, inter- 
^H niptcd only by timid whispers. Meir knew what brought 
^B the people here and where they came from. There were 
^V scarcely any inhabitants of Szybow amongst them, as these 
^P could always see the rabbi and come to him for advice. 
They came mostly from the country around ; some from 
far distant places. There was a slight spiinkling of mer- 
chants and well-to-do people, but the great bulk bore the 
stamp of poverty and hard work in their lean, patient 
faces, and upon their garments, 

"Why should I go there ?" said Meir to himself, "he 
will not listen to me now ; but where else can I go ? " he 
added after awhile, and again mixed with tiie crowd who 
bore him onwards till he found himself before the wide- 
open door of the rabbi's dwelling, 

Beyond the door, in the entrance, people stood closely 
pressed together like a living or rather breathing wall, as 
no other sound than their long-drawn breaths was audible, 
Meir tried to push his way through, which did not present 
great difficnlties, aa many of the poor people had been 
humble guests at Ezofovitcb's, and recognizing Saul's 
grandson, made room for him. Thej did this in a quick, 
absent-minded way, because their eyes were riveted upon 
the room beyond ; they stood upon tiptoe, and whenever 
they caught a broken sentence, their faces glowed with 
happiness as if the honored sage's words were balm for all 
the sorrows of their lives. 

The interior of the room, which Meir beheld from the 
open door, presented a singular appearance. In the depth 
of it, between the wall and a table, sitt Rabbi Todros in his 



MEIR EZOFOVTTCIL 217 

usual worn-out garments, with his cap pusher! on the hack 
of his head. The upper part of his body bent forward, he 
sat perfectly motionless except for his eyes, which roamed 
along the people, who looked at him liumbly and beseech- 
ingly. There was a small space between the sage and 
those that stood before liim, which none dared to cross 
without permission. The whole scene was lighted up by 
the rays of the sun streaming in through the window on 
one side, on the other by the lurid and fitful flames of the 
fireplace. Near the latter crouched the melamed, feeding 
the flame with fresh fuel and putting various herbs into 
steaming vessels. 

Besides the function of apothecary, he joined also the 
office of crier. He called out the names of the people who, 
according to his opinion, were entitled to appear before the 
master. 

He now raised his thick forefinger towards the entrance 
and called out, — 

^^ Shimshel, the innkeeper.^' 

The summoned man, whose name, Samson, time and 
custom had transformed into Shimshel, did not resemble in 
the least his namesake, the historical Samson. He was 
slender and red-haired, and bent almost to the ground 
before the rabbi. 

^^ Who greets the Wise Man bows before the greatness of 
the Creator,'^ he said in a timid, shaking voice. It was 
not only his voice which shook, but all his limbs, and his 
blue eyes roamed wildly about the room. 

Isaac Todros sat like a statue. His eyes looked piercingly 



r 



I his tprvor. ' 



218 MEIIt EZOFOnrCH. 

at the littli! red-liaired man before him, who in his terror, 
had lost his tongue altogether. 

"Well ? " said the sage, after a lengthy pause. 

Shimshel raised his ehonlders almost to his ears and 

igan,— 

" Nasi ! let a ray of your wisdom enlighten my darkneaa. 
I have committed a great sin, and my soul trembles while 
I am confessing it before yon. Nasi I I am a most nn- 
fortunate man ; my wife Ryfka has lost my soul forever, 
(mless yon, oh rabbi, tell me how to make it clean again." 

Here, the poor penitent choked again, but gathering 
courage, proceeded, — 

"Nasi ! I and my wife Ryfka and the children sat down, 
last Friday, to the Sabbath feast. On one table, there waa 
a dish of meat, on the other a bowl of milk, which my wife 
had boiled for the younger children. My wife ladled oat 
the milk for the children, when her hand shook and a drop 
of milk fell upon the meat," 

" A'i ! a'i ! stupid woman, what had she done ! She had 
made the meat nnclean." 

Shimahel choked again, and stopped. The sage, still 
motionless, asked, — 

" Well, and what did you do with the meat ? " 

The questioned man's head sank upon his breast, and 
he stammered, — 

"Rabbi, I ate from it, and so did my wife and children." 

The rabbi's eyes flashed with anger, 

" Why did you not throw the unclean food on the refufle 
heap ? Why did you make your mouth and the months uf 
your family unclean ? " shouted the rabbi. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCn. 219 

" Nasi I I am very poor, and keep a small inn which 
brings but little profit. I have six children, an old father 
who lives with me, and two orphaned grandchildren, whose 
parents died. Rabbi ! it is difficult to find food for so 
many mouths, and we have meat only once a week. Koscher 
meat is very dear, so I buy three pounds every week, and 
eleven people have to keep up their strength on it. Rabbi ! 
I knew we should have nothing during the week, except 
bread and onions and cucumber. I was loth to throw that 
meat away and so I ate from it, and allowed my family to 
eat from it.'' 

Thus complained and confessed the poor Samson, and 
the master listened with clouded brows. 

Then he spoke, transfixing the sinner with angry eyes. 
He explained in a long and learned speech the origin of 
the law of clean and unclean food. How great and wise 
men, had written many commentaries about it, and how 
great the sin of a man was who dared to eat a piece of 
meat upon which a drop of milk had fallen. " Your sin 
is abominable in the eyes of the Lord,'* he thundered at 
the humble penitent. " For the sake of greediness you have 
broken the covenant, which Jehovah made with his people, 
and transgressed one of the six hundred and thirteen com- 
mandments, which every true Israelite is bound to keep. 
You deserve to be cursed even as Elisha cursed the mocking 
children, and Joshua the town of Jericho. But since it 
was only your body which sinned, whilst the spirit re- 
mained faithful, and you came to me and confessed and 
humbled yourself, I will forgive you, under the condition 
that you and your family abstain from meat and milk during 



r 



220 MEin EZOForiTCii. ^^^ 

four weeks, and the money saved therefrom distribnted 
ftmongst the poor. And after four weeks, when yonraouls 
will be clean again from the abomination, yon may dwell 
in peace and piety amongst your brethren Israelites." 

" Say everybody Amen." 

" Amen," called the people within the room and with- 
out, and those who pressed their eager faces against the 
window. 

The little red-haired Samson, relieved from the burden 
which oppressed his conscience, thongh otherwise burdened 
with a four-weeks' fast, murmured his thanks and retreated 
towards the entrance. 

Keb Mosze again raised his finger and called out, — 

"Reb Qerson, melamed." 

At his summons, a round-backed, middle-sized man, 
with shaggy hair and clouded mien, appeared. He was a 
colleague of Reb Mosze, a teacher from a little town where 
he enlightened the Israelitish youths. He stood in the 
middle of the room, holding a heavy book with both hands. 
After greeting the master, he began in these words, — 

" Rabbi ! my soul has been in trouble. Two days ago, 
my children read that evening prayers ought to be said 
until the end of the first watch. The children asked me : 
' What is the first watch ?' I remained mute, for I did 
not know bow to answer, and I came to you, rabbi, for ft 
ray of wisdom to enlighten my mind. Tell me, ohrabbi, 
what are the watches according to which every Israelite 
has to regulate his prayers. Where are they ? so that I 
may give an answer to the children." 

The ronnd-baeked man stopped, and all eyes rested witk 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH, 221 

excited cariosity upon the sage^ who without changing his 
position^ answered, — 

'^ What should it be, but the angeFs watch ? And 
where do they watch ? They watch before the throne of 
the Eternal, when the day declines and the night ap- 
proaches. The angels are divided in three choirs. The 
first choir stands before the throne and keeps watch till 
midnight. Then is the time to say evening prayers. The 
second comes at midnight and keeps watch until dawn ; 
when you see the sky turn rosy-red and pale-blue, the 
third choir arrives, and then it is time to say morning 
prayers.^' 

The Master stopped, and a low murmur of admiration 
and rapture was heard amongst the crowd. But the 
melamed did not retire yet, his eyes fixed upon his book 
he began anew, — 

^' Eabbi, give me another ray of wisdom to carry back 
to my scholars. Near our little town lies the estate of a 
great lord. Sometimes the children go there and hear all 
sorts of things. Once coming thence, they told in town 
that the origin of thunder had been explained to them. 
They were told that thunder comes from heaven when two 
clouds meet and give out a force, they called electricity. I 
never heard of it before, — is it true that there exists such a 
force and that it originates thunder ? " 

Daring Reb Gerson's speech the Rabbits face twitched 
with suppressed impatience and he smiled scornfully. 

^^ It is not true I " he exclaimed, ^^ there is no such force, 
and not from there comes thunder. When the Roman 
emperor destroyed the Temjile, and dispersed the people of 



r 



MEIB KZOFOVITCU. 

Israel, there was thunder. Where did it come from ? It 
came from Jehovah's breast who wept aloud over the de- 
Btrnction of his people. And now the Lord weeps over 
his people, and his moaiiB are lieard upon earth as thnnder ; 
his tears fall into the seas, and make them heave and rise, 
and shake the earth into its foundations, and send fortli. 
smoke and fire. I have told you now whence comes thun- 
der and earthquakes. Go in peace and repeat to jour" 
children what I told you." 

With a humble bow and thanks, the melamed retireii- 
into the crowd. At the same time, beyond the door th^ 
loud wail of a child became audible. 

Reb MoBze called out, — 

" Chaini, dairy farmer from Kamionka and Ma wif^ 
Malka." 

From the crowd came a man and a woman. Both looked 
pale and troubled ; the woman carried a sick child on her 
arms. Tliey knelt before him and holding up to him the 
child, wasted with disease, asked for his help and advice. 
Todros bent tenderly over tlie fragile little body and looked 
long and attentively at it. Eeb Mosze squatting on the 
floor, looked at the master for orders mixing and etirriog 
the decoctions. In this way, one by one, came the people 
to their teacher, sage, physician, prophet almost, plied 
him with questions, and asked for advice. A troubled 
husband brought his comely, buxom wife, and asked for a 
judgment by lielp of a certain water, called the water of 
j'ealonsy. If the wife be guilty of infidelity, the efficaev 
of the water Is believed to cause duatli, if innocent it "'ill 
enhance her beauty and give lier health. Another man 



1^ MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 223 

asked what he was to do if the time for prayers arrived 
during a journey and he could not turn his face to the 
east, because the storm and dust would bh'nd his eyes. A 
great many came crying and bewailing their mieerable 
lives, and asked the sage to look into the future and tel! 
them how long it wonld be till the Messiah arrived. The 
greater part of the people did not want anything, asked 
neither questions nor came for advice ; they simply wanted 
to see the revered Master, breathe the same air with him, 
and fill their soula with the words that dropped from his 
lips, and see the light of his countenance. 

It was evident that Isaac Todros felt and appreciated his 
high position. He attended to all their wants with the 
greatest gravity, zeal and patience. He explained and put 
the people right in points of the law, inflicted penances 
upon sinners gave physic to tiie sick, advice to the igno- 
rant without changing his position, only fixing his either 
stem or thoughtful eyes upon those that came to him. 
Several times when the people wailed and complained, en- 
treating him to foretell the coming of the Messiah, his 
dark eyes grew miaty. He loved those that came to him 
with their troubles and felt for them. Big beads of per- 
spiration stood upon his forehead, and his breath came 
hard and fast, but be still went on with- his ministrations 
in the deep conviction that he was doing his duty, with a 
fervent faith and belief in all that he was doing and teach- 
ing, and the disinterestedness of a man who does not want 
anything for himself, except the little black hut, a scanty 
meal, and the tattered garments he had worn for many 
years. 



i 



r 



224 MEIR EZOFOVlTVll. 

Through the eoni-t of the synagogue in the meanwhile 
a man passed swiftly looking around him as if in search for 
Bomething or aomehody. It was Ber, Saul's son-in-law. 
He lookefi at the people crowding round the Rabbi's dwell- 
ing, at last his eyes lighted upon Meir, and he grasped him 
by the sleeve of his coat. 

The young man woke up as from a trance, and looked 
absently round at his uncle. 

" Come with me," whispered Ber. 

"I cannot go away," said Meir, in an equally low voice, 
" I have important business with the rabbi and shall wait 
till all the people have left so that I may speak with him." 

" Come away," repeated Ber, and took the youth by the 
shoalder. 

Meir shook him off impatiently but Ber repeated,^ 

" Come with me now, you can return later when the 
people have gone, that is, if you wish it, but I do not think 
you will." 

Both left the crowded hut. Ber walked swiftly and 
silently, leading his companion to a quiet part of the pre- 
cincts where under the shadow of the walls of Bot-ha-Mid- 
rash, nobody could overhear their conversation. 

Meir leaned against the wall. Ber stood silently before 
him, looking intently at hie young kinsman. 

Ber's outward appearance did not present any striking 
features ; many would pass hint without taking particular 
notice, yet the student of human nature would find in him 
a character worth knowing. He was forty years old, al- 
ways carefully dressed, yet according to old customs. His 
delicately moulded features and blue eyes had a dreamy 



MEIR EZOFOVITCIL 225 

and apathetic expression which only lighted up under the 
excitement of business speculations. A deep yearning 
after somethings and carefully suppressed dreams and stifled 
aspirations, gave to his mouth an expression of calm resig- 
nation. Sometimes, when the ghost of the past appeared 
before him, two deep furrows appeared across his fore- 
head. It was evident that some fierce conflicts had been 
raging under that quiet exterior, and left wounds and scars 
which now and then would remind him painfully of the 
past. 

He stood now opposite the young man whom, almost by 
force, he had dragged away from the crowd. 

^^ Meir,'^ he said at last, ^^an hour ago your grandfather 
liad a long talk with his son, Abram. He left his visitors 
on purpose to speak with him and bade me to be present 
at their conversation. Rest in peace, Meir, your uncle will 
have no hand in the vile deed which will be perpetrated." 

^^ Will be perpetrated ?" interrupted Meir, passionately, 
^^ not if I can prevent it." 

Ber smiled bitterly. 

^^ How can you prevent it ? I guessed you wanted to 
speak about it to the rabbi and I went after you, to warn 
and save you from the consequences of such a step. You 
thought that if you put the case before him he would rise 
in anger and forbid any one to do such an infamous deed. 
If he did that they would obey him, but he will not do it." 

^'^ Why should he not ?" exclaimed Meir. 

*^ Because he does not understand anything about it. 

If you questioned him about clean or unclean food, 

whether it were allowed to snuff the candle on a Sabbath, or 
15 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 




H 226 

^B gird the loias with pocket hundkercliiofa, he would answer 
^H readily enougli. He would tell you whether to bless first 
^1 the wine or first the bread, or how the spirits transmigrate 
^V from one body to anotlier, how many Sephiroth emanate 
■ from Jehovah and how to transpose the sacred letters m 
order to discover fresh mysteries, or about the arrival of the 
Messiah. Bat if you began to speak to him about distil- 
leries, tases, estates, and thinga in connection with them, 
he would open hia eyes widely, and he would listen to you 
like a man struck by deafness, because these things are to 
him like a scaled letter. For him, beyond his sacred books, 
the world is like a great wilderness." 

Meir bent his head. 

" I feel the truth of what you say ; yet if I asked him 
whether it be right for the sake of gain to wrong an inno- 
cent man ? " 

Ber answered, — 

"He would ask you whether the imiocent man were au 
Edomite or an Israelite." 

Meir looked intently at the sky, thinking deeply, and 
evidently puzzled. 

" Ber," he said at last, " do you hate tjie Edomites ? " 

The questioned man shook his head. 

" Hatred is like poison to the human mind. Once, when 
I was young, I even thought of going to them and entreat- 
ing them to help us. I am glad now that I did not do it 
and remained with my own people, hut I have no ill-feeling 
towards them." 

" And I have none," said Meir, " Do you think Kami- 
onker hates them ? " 



MEin EZOFOVITCH, 227 

^^No," said Ber, decidedly. *^ He makes use of them ; 
they are his milch cows. He may despise them, because 
they do not look after their business and allow themselves 
to be cheated/^ 

^^And Todros, does he hate thcm?^^ questioned 
Meir/^ 

*^ Yes," said Ber, very emphatically. *^ Todros hates 
them. And why does he hate them ? Because he does 
not live in the Present ; he still lives in the Past, when the 
Roman emperor besieged Jerusalem and drove the Israelites 
out of Palestine. He breathes, thinks, and feels as if he 
had lived two thousand years ago. He does not know that 
from the time of his ancestor, Halevi Todros, other wise 
people have lived, and that times are changed, and that 
those that hated and persecuted us once, have since then 
stretched out their hands in peace and goodwill. How can 
he know anything ? he never left Szybow since he was born, 
never read anything but the books left by his forefathers, 
has never seen or spoken to any one out of Israel." 

Meir listened and nodded his head in sign that he agreed 
with his companion. 

*^ I see there is no use at all in going to him," he said, 
thoughtfully. 

^' There is not," said Ber, "therefore, I went in search 
of you. He will not prevent Kamionker from wronging 
the lord of Kamionka, who represents to him the people 
of Ai ; with whom Joshua went to war, or the Roman nation, 
who destroyed the Temple, or the Spaniard, who, five 
hundred years ago, burned and despoiled the Jews. He 
would not even listen to you and would denounce you as an. 



MEIH EZOFOriTCIT. 



H 228 

^B in&del. If he has not brought his haud down upon you it 
^M is owing to the love and respect the people bear towards 
^M your grandiather, Saul. If jou accused Katnionker before 
^B liim, Kamionker would set him against you, as already 
■ does Rcb Moaze. Meir ! be careful I there are rocks ahead, 
save yonrself before it is too late." 
Meir did not reply to the warning. 
"Ber," he said, '■! am sure, that man, blind and re- 
vengeful as he is, possesses a great soul. Look how patient- 
ly he aits night and day over his books, how full of pity 
and compassion are his eyes when he listens to the poor 
people and comforts them, and does not want anj-tliing for 
himself. Rer ! his faith is so siucere 1 " 

Ber smiled at his words and turned liis dreamy eyes to 
heaven. 

" Yon speak thus about the rabbi, Meir ; what do you 
say about the people who, in midst of misery, tiunger, 
and humiliation, still thirst for wisdom and knowledge. 
Never mind whether it is the true wisdom or tme knowl- 
edge, but look how they raise themselves above their 
narrow lives by their faith and reverence for their Wise 
Men. Do you think that this narrow, bigoted, greedy 
people have a great soul ? 

Israel has a great soul, and I love it more than my life, 
my happiness, and my peace." He stopped for a minute, 
then grasped Ber by the shoulder. " I know what is want- 
ing in Todroa to make him a great man, and what is want- 
ing in the Israelitish people to show their greatness to the 
world. — They ought to come out of the Past in wliioh thty 
persist to dwell, into the Present ; they want Sar-ha- 



MEIR EZOFOVITCII. 229 

Olem, the angel of knowledge, to touch them with his 
wings/^ 

Whilst the young man spoke thus, his face glowing 
with excitement, Ber looked at him thoughtfully. 

^^ When I look at you, Meir, and listen to you, I see 
myself as I was at your age. I felt the same anger, the 
same grief, and I wanted — " 

He stopped and passed his hand over his brow marked 
with two deep lines, and his eyes looked far away, as if 
into the future. 

Anybody seeing their animated faces and lively gesticu- 
lation, as they stood near the wall of the Bet-ha-Midrash, 
would have concluded that they were discussing bargains. 
What else did people like them live or care for ? Yet 
they think and suffer, but nobody guesses it or wishes 
to penetrate the mystery of their thoughts. It is like 
the depth of an unfathomable sea, its depths unknown 
even to those who are perishing in it. 

" Come home with me,^^ said Ber, ^^ your grandfather 
will soon be sitting down to dinner with his guests, and be 
displeased at not seeing you at the table. There is al- 
ready a storm brewing for you, because Mistress liana 
has returned the betrothal gifts, broken off the engage- 
ment, and given Saul a piece of her mind in presence of 
all the visitors. ^^ 

Meir carelessly waved his hands. 

"I wished for it,^^ he said, ^^I shall ask my grand- 
father's pardon ; I can only think about one thing now, 
where to go to next ? " 

Ber looked wonderingly at the speaker. 



230 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

" How obstinate you are/' he remarked. 

They were near the entrance gate when Ber suddenly 
stopped. 

^^ Meir ! whatever you do, don^t go to the government 
authorities.^^ 

Meir passed his hand over his forehead. 

^^ I thought of that/^ he said, ^^ but I am afraid. If I 
reveal the whole truth, they will not only punish Kamion- 
ker, but also those poor wretches he tempted with his 
money. Poor people, ignorant people, I am sorry for 
them—'' 

He suddenly paused and looked fixedly in one direction. 
An elegant carriage drawn by four horses, crossed the 
market square. Meir pointed at the carriage, which 
stopped before Jankiel Kamionker's inn, and his eyes 
opened wider from a sudden idea which took hold of his 
mind. 

" Ber ! " he exclaimed, " do you see him ? That is the 
lord of Kamionker/' 



ItSIS EZOFOVITCS. 281 



CHAPTER VII. 

• 

The sun declined towards the west, when in the porch 
of SauFs house stood a group of men gayly conversing 
amongst themselves. They were SauFs visitors, who, after 
having feasted at his hospitable board, were now saying 
good-bye and pressing the old man^s hand, thanked him 
for his kind reception ; then by twos and threes mounted 
upon the waiting carts, their faces still turned toward 
their venerable host who stood in the porch. 

In the sitting-room, the women, with the help of the 
servants, were busy with clearing the table and putting 
away the dinner service. 

The fair was also drawing to an end ; the carts grew fewer 
by degrees, so did the people upon the square. All the 
noise and liveliness concentrated itself now in the several 
inns where the people were drinking and dancing. Jankiel 
Kamionker's inn was by far the most frequented and 
noisiest. No wonder. The crafty dealer rented several 
distilleries and some seventy inns about the country and 
ruled over a small army of sub-tenants and innkeepers, of 
the Samson kind, who bought meat once a week and 
starved on other days. They depended entirely upon 
Kamionker, who, if he did not treat them generously, 
they, on their side were not generous towardatlie^ek«>aaxvt%, 
whom they plied with drink. Throu^ \v\e. ^\x\iQt^)cx»s^^^^ 



.1 
1 



MEin EXnFOVlTCH. 



H SS2 

^M Kamionker held iiniler liia thumb thouBaiide of peasants' 
^P families. Therefore they all came to his iuu. He did not 
look himself after his hnmble cuBtomera but left it to his 
wife and his two strong and ugly daughters, who carried 
bottles and glasses round the tables, together with salted 
herrings and different kinds of bread. Nobody could have 
gnessed seeing the faded woman, shabbily dressed, moving 
in that stifling atmosphere of alcohol and human breath, 
that she was the wife of one of the wealthiest men in the 
country. 

Neither did the man in his musty garments who stood 
humbly at the door of the guests' room, look like a great 
capitaltst and financier. 

He stood near the threshold and his guest, the lord of 
Kamionka, reclined in the easy-chair smoking a cigar. The 
young gentleman was tall and handsome ; his dark hair 
fell upon a white forehead, though the other part of his 
face was slightly browned by the sun. He had a good- 
natured and thoughtful faee. 

The gay playfulness with which his eyes twinkled was 
evidently caused by the sight of thenimbleJew whose body 
seemed to be made of india-rubber and the two corkscrew 
curls behind his ears of a flery red seemed to dance to and 
fro with his every motion. Then he became thoughtful 
again because the red-haired Jew spoke about important 
business. The young nobleman did not know anything 
about the man himself with whom he dealt. 

He was to him a Jew and the tenant of his distillery. 
That he might be also a prominent member of a power- 
fallj organized body, a greatX^ Te6^e;iteiKQ4i^\(i'a.?,TOBii,'a. 



MEIR EZOFOVlTCm 233 

mystic deeply versed in sacred knowledge, and finally a 
man who in those dirty freckled hands held the entangled 
threads of the fortunes of many Jewish and Christian fami- 
lies ; of all this the lord of Kamionka knew nothing. There- 
fore it never occurred to him to invite the Jew to draw 
nearer or to sit down. Reb Jankiel likewise did not think 
of such a thing. He had been accustomed to stand hum- 
bly, as his fathers had done before him ; nevertheless, his 
pale blue eyes were full of malice, whenever the young 
gentleman turned his look elsewhere and could not see 
him. Maybe Reb Jankiel did not realize his own feelings, 
yet he could not help seeing the contrast between his pres- 
ent humble attitude and the proud position he occupied 
in his own community. Such feelings, though ill defined, 
if united to a bad heart could produce no other results 
than hatred and even crime. 

"You bore me, Jankiel, with your everlasting bargains 
and agreements,'^ said the nobleman carelessly, twisting 
his cigar between his fingers. ** I stopped at your inn for 
a few minutes to rest my horses, and you get me into busi- 
ness discussions at once." 

Reb Jankiel bowed nimbly. 

" I beg the Gracious Pan's pardon,^' he said smilingly, 
'*but the distillery will be starting work next month, and 
I should like to renew the agreement." 

^' Of course you will be my tenant as you have been these 
last three years, but there is plenty of time." 

"It is better to arrange everything beforehand. I shall 
have to buy a hundred head of cattle for ta.tt^\\\\\^ ^^^x- 
poses, and I cannot afford the outlay \xxiVe«5»\ ^xcl ^^>x^ ^^ 



MEIH EZOFOVITCII. 



shall come " 



I 



the tenancy. If tiie Grauions Pan permits, I shall < 
to. morrow to write the agreement." 

The young nobleman rose. 

" Very well— come to-morrow, bnt not in the morning, 
aa I shall not be at home." 

' ' The Gracious Pan thinks of spending the night in the 
neighborhood?" asked Jankiel, his face twitching nerv- 
onsly. 

"Yes, in the near neighborhood," answered the noble- 
man, and was going to say something more, when the door 
behind Jankiel's back opened gently and a young Jew 
with a pale face and burning eyes entered boldly. 

At the sight of the newcomer, Jankiel drew back in- 
Btinctively, and an expression of terror came into his face. 

"What do you want here?" he asked, in a choking 
voice. 

The nobleman glanced carelessly at the young Jew. 

"Do yon want to speak with me, my friend? "he 
aslced. 

" Yes ! with the Gracious Pan," said the newcomer, and 
went a few steps nearer ; but Jankiel barred him the 
way. 

" Do not permit him to come nearer. Gracious Pan, and 
do not speak with him ; he is a bad man, and interferes 
with everybody." 

The lord of Kamionka waved the frantic Jankiel aside. 

" Let him speak, if he has any business with me ; why 
ahonld I not speak with him ? " 

Saying this he looked with evident curiosity at the 
youthful face of the intTuiet. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 235 

" The Gracious Pan does not know me," began the 
young man. 

" And why should the Gracious Pan know such a good- 
for-nothing fellow," interrupted Jankiel, but the lord of 
Kamionka bade him be silent. 

" I have seen you. Gracious Pan, at my grandfather's, 
Saul, whose son Rafael buys your corn.'' 

^^ So you are Saul's grandson ?" 

" Yes, Gracious Pan, I am his grandson." 

" And the son of Rafael Ezof ovitch ? " 

"No, I am the son of Benjamin, the youngest of Saul's 
sons, who died long ago." 

Meir did not speak Polish very fluently, yet he made 
himself understood. He had heard it spoken by those 
that came to deal with members of his family and had 
learned it of the Edomite who had also taught him to read 
and write. 

" Did Rafael send you to me ? 

^^ No, I came on my own account. 

He seemed to collect his thoughts, then boldly raised 
his head, — 

" I came to warn you. Gracious Pan, bad people are pre- 
paring a great misfortune for you — " 

Jankiel rushed forwards and with outspread arms placed 
himself between the two. 

"Will you hold your tongue," he shouted, "why do 
you come here to disturb the Gracious Pan with your fool- 
ish talk ? " and turning towards the nobleman, he said, — 

" He is a madman and a villain." 

It was not the lord now who wavei 3«iX\^s!\^ ^i\^^ ^ssi^. 






(i breatliing 



28(1 MEin EZOFOriTCII. 

Meii- himself. With heightened color ami 

quickly, lie puuhed him aside and said,— 

■■ He will not allow me to apeait, but I will aay quickly 
what 1 have to eay. I)o not trust him. Gracious Pan, ha 
is a bad man and your enemy. lie wants to do you n 
gricToua harm — guard yourself and gnanl your house like 
the apple of your eye. I am not an informer, therefore, I 
came to say it in hie jtresence and warn the G-racions Pan. 
Ho will revenge himseM upon me, but that does not mat- 
. I am doing my duty, as every true Israelite ought to 
do — for it is written ' the stranger that dwelleth with yon 
shall be unto you as one born among yon,' and it is fur- 
ther said, ' If thou remainest silent, upon tliy head be the 
woes of Israel.'" 

The yonug nobleman looked at the speaker with soma 
interest, but his eyes twinkled. The quotation from 
Scripture, beautiful in itself, but marred by the faulty 
pronunciation made it appear more ridiculous than inter*- 
esting. I 

" I perceive that old Saul has a grandson vrho is weQ^ 
grounded in the Scripture and has a prophetic gift ; hat, 
tell clearly and distinctly, my young prophet, what mis- 
fortune is threatening me aud why this honest Jankiel whOj 
has been dealing with me for years, has suddenly beoomt 
my enemy ? " 

Jankiel stood close to the easy-chair and bending* 
closer to the lord whispered smilingly, — 

"He is mad; he always foretells all sorts of terrible 
things, and he hates me because I laugh at him." 

" Oh ! then I shall not laugh at him and make him haW 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 237 

me," said the nobleman gayly, and turning towards Meir, 
he asked, — 

^^ Tell me what is the misfortune which threatens me ; 
if you tell me the truth, you will be doing a good deed and 
I shall be grateful for it." 

" You ask me a very difficult thing. Gracious Pan, I 
thought you would understand from a few words, it is 
hard for me to speak more clearly." 

And he passed his hand over his brow which was moist 
with perspiration. 

'^ Promise me. Gracious Pan, that if I speak out, my 
words will fall like a stone in the water. Promise me to 
make use of my information, but not to go with it to law." 

The nobleman looked amused yet curious. 

' ^ I give you my word of honor that your secret will be 
safe with me." 

Meir^s burning eyes turned towards Jankiel, his whole 
frame shook, he opened his mouth, but the words refused 
to come. Jankiel seeing this emotion, which momentarily 
deprived him of his tongue suddenly grasped him by the 
waist and dragging toward the door shouted, — 

^•' Why do you enter my house and disturb my honored 
guest by your foolish talk. The Gracious Pan is my 
guest, has known me for years, there, off with you at 



once." 



Meir tried to get out of Jankiel's hands, and though he 
was taller and stronger, Jankiel was nimbler, and despair 
redoubled his energy. Struggling and panting both in a 
confused mass rolled towards the door, and the youn^ ^en- 
tleman looked at the struggle wit\i an anwx^^^ ^^■^x^'s.ix^"^*- 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 



1 



^P 288 

^H Meir'a pale face towering above Jankiel's red head sud- 
^U denly flushed. 

^H " Do not laugli at me. Gracious Pan," he said brokenly, 
^M " You do not know how difficult it is for me to speak, bat 
^f guard your house from fire ! " , 

At these last words he disappeared through the door '' 
which the panting Jankiel slammed after hira. : 

The lord of Kamionka still smiled. The struggle bo- j 
tween the nimble red-haired Jankiel and the tall young , 
Jew had looked very funny. Uuring the battle the loug ) 
coat-tails had flapped about like wings, and Jankiel in hia , 
deapsriite effort to get rid of the intriider had performed 
the most extraordinary acrobatic feats. It was a ridicu- 
lous scene altogether, the more ridiculous as the combatants 
belonged to a race at which to laugh was an old-time, 
honored custom. How could the young nobleman under- 
stand the deeper meaning of the play enacted before 
him ? 

He saw before him a young Jew who spoke in broken 
Polish, the grandson of a merchant, and who would be, 
in his turn, a merchant. That he was a noble spirit 
in rebellion against everything mean and dishonest, 
a despairing spirit longing for freedom and wider knowl- 
edge, that coming to him as he did, he had done a heroic 
act which would destroy hia whole future, of all this the 
nobleman had not the slightest suspicion. 

After a short pause he looked at Jankiel and asked, — 
" Explain to me now, what did it all mean ? "What kind 
of a man is he really ?" 

" What kind of man ? " said Jankiel, who Hcemiugly had 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 2S9 

regained his composure. ^^ It was a stujpid affair^ and I 
beg the Gracious Pan's pardon that it should have hap- 
pened to him under my roof. He is a madman and very 
spiteful, he went mad from mere spitefulness/' 

*^H'm !'' said the young gentleman, '' he did not look 
like a madman. He has a handsome face and an intelli- 
gent one.'' 

'^ He is not altogether mad, — " began Jankiel, but the 
Pan interrupted him. 

" He is the grandson of Saul Ezofovitch ? '' he asked, 
thoughtfully. 

^^ He is Saul's grandson, but his grandfatlier does not 
Hke him." 

*^ Whether he like him or not, I could scarcely ask his 
grandfather about him." 

^^On the contrary, ask him. Gracious Pan, what he 
thinks of his grandson," exclaimed Jankiel triumphantly. 
^*^Ask his uncles, I will go at once and bring his uncle 
Abram." 

^^No need," said the nobleman, shortly. 

He rose and looked thoughtful ; then, fixed his eyes 
upon Jankiel's face. Jankiel boldly met his searching 
glance. 

^^ Listen, Jankiel," said the lord of Kamionka, ^^ you 
are a man in years, a respectable merchant and father of a 
large family. I ought to trust you more than a young 
man I have seen to-day for the first time, and who may be 
wrong in the head for anything I know ; but there must 
be something at the bottom of what he tells me. I must 
get some information about him." 



r 



240 MEIR EZOFOVlTCa. 

The Gracious Pau can get that iuformation yery 
easily," aaid Jaukiel, shrugging his shoaldera contemptu- 
ouHly. 

The owner of Kamionkii thought a little, and, then, 
asked, — 

■■ Is thut celebrated rabbi of youra in town ? " 

" Where should he be ?" said Jankiel, "he has never 
been out of the town during all his life." 

" A steady man, your rabbi," said the nobleman, reach- 
iug for his hat. " Now, Jaukeil, show me the way, and if 
I do not hear anything new, I shall at last have aeen and 
spoken with that celebrated man." 

Jankiel opened the door for his distinguished gnest, and 
followed him into the square, which was now almost deserted. 
Half way across, they met E!i Witebaki, whom the lord of 
Kamiouka greeted affably. By his manner and appearance 
the wealthy merchant came a little nearer to the civilized 
sphere in which the laiido\vner moved himself. 

"Has the Gracious Pun come to town on business?" 
asked Eli. 

" Xo, I am only passing."" 

" And where might the Gracious Pan be going now ';" 

"To see your rabbi. Pan Witebski." 

Witebski looked astonished. 

"To see the rabbi? and what business can the noble 
Pan have with the rabbi F " 

"It is a ridiculous story, Witebski. There, tell me <lo 
you know Saul Ezofoviteh's grandson ? " 

" Which of them ?" asked Eli, " ^aul haa many gniml 



MEIR EZOFOVITGH. 241 

" What is his name ? " asked the nobleman, turning his 
head half toward Jankiel. 

'^ Meir, Meir, that worthless fellow \*' 

Witebski nodded his head as a sign he understood. 
^^ Well/' he said, with an indulgent smile, ^^ I would not 
quite call him a worthless fellow. He is young and will 
mend ; he is hot-headed, though. '^ 

^' What ! a little wrong here ? " laughed the gentleman, 
pointing to his forehead. 

'^ Well,'' said Eli, " he is not mad, but rash and impul- 
sive, and just now he has done a very foolish thing and 
put me into a most awkward position. — Ai ! ai ! what 
trouble and vexation I had through him and shall have 
still.—" 

'' Oh ! that's it ! " said the lord, '' he is a kind of half- 
witted mischief-maker, who does not know what he wants 
and gets into everybody's way ? " 

^* The noble Pan has guessed it," said Eli, but added 
at once, "he is very young, and will be yet a decent 



man." 



" Which means that he is not a decent man at present ? 
I see." 

*' This way, please," said Jankiel, showing the gates of 
the synagogue court. 

" And where does your rabbi live ? " 

Kamionka pointed to the little black hut close to the 
synagogue. 

" What ! in that little cottage ?" 

And he went towards it with Jankiel alone, a% 'Wit^Xi^x, 

guessing that some unpleasant business laad \iTo\\^\* ^^tcl 
i6 



rSia MEIR EZOFOVITCU. 



tely, le^^ J 

t a litt*-'' 1 
window^" ' 



F 

^H-bither, directly took bU leave, and bowing politi 
^B them, 

^^ The door of the hut was already closed, but 

^B group of worehippera still lijigered at the open winilo\w^^" 

^B it was very silent within ; but the rabbi did not rest, 1l-— ^* 

^V never rested, as the few hours spent in broken sleep, coul^^^* 

scarcely be called by that name. — He was bending over hi — ** 

books, which he knew by heart, hut still pondered over^""^! 

and of which to penetrate the mystery, he strove with hit -* 

whole mind and soul. i 

Reb MoBze rested, but not altogether. He sat in tli^ -J 

comer of the fireplace, his knees drawn up to his chii-^tn 

and his hands buried in his beard ; he looked fixedly at th» -*' 

master, not unlike a fanatic savage worshipping his fetish -^C3i 

or as a scientist watches the universe. , 

The eyes of Reb Mosze expressed deep veneration, woq«=3J 

der, and utter devotion, ' 

Suddenly, the door opened, and upon the threahol- — <*■■ 

stood the lord of Karaionka who, turning towards Jankieir^ t, 

aaid, — 

" Remain outside, I will speak alone with the rabbi." 
Saying this, he stooped in order to enter into the lo — ^ 
door, and then looked around. 

Opposite him, near the wall, sat a man with a mass cn^ 
coal-black hair slightly tinged with gray, about him aworir*-- 
ont garment ; and with a yellow- wrinkled face ; who looke? ^ 
at the intruder with amazed and piercing eyes. In a far co^" 
ner squatted another man only dimly visible ; upon him tl» * 
young gentleman heatowed only a passing glance. It di *-* 
not even enter hla mmi ftve.^. V!^«, 



p 

Hi 

; 
I 



• 1 : 



I- 



MEIR EZOFOVITCU, 243 

clothes and piercing eyes could be the celebrated rabbi, 
whose fame spreading over the Jewish communities had 
sent a faint echo into the Christian world 

He approached the man very politely. 

^' Could I see the Rabbi of Szybow for a few minutes ? '^ 

There was no answer. 

The man sitting near the wall craned his long yellow 
neck, and opened his eyes and mouth wider. The sudden 
amazement, or perhaps other feelings gave him the ap- 
pearance of stupidity almost idiotism. IN'o wonder that 
Isaac Todros looked like one turned to stone at the sight 
of the nobleman standing before him. He was the first 
Edomite who had ever crossed his threshold, the first he had 
ever seen close to ; and the first time he had heard the sono- 
rous language, which sounded strange and unintelligible to 
his ears. If the angel Matatron, the heavenly patron and de- 
fender of Israel ; or even the foremost of the evil spirits had 
stood before him he would have been less appalled ; with 
supernatural beings he was in constant though not direct 
communication. He studied them, their nature and their 
functions. But this tall, stately man in his abominable 
garment which reached barely to his knee with the white, 
effeminate forehead and unintelligible language. Who 
was he ? What did he want ? Was he a Philistine ? a 
cruel Roman or perhaps a Spaniard, one of those that 
murdered the famous Abrabanel family and drove his an- 
cestor Todros out of Spain ? 

The lord waited a few minutes and not getting an 
answer repeated the question. 

'' Could I apeak with the Rabbi oi Sz^\io\^ \ " k\>^^^^"^^^ 



244 MEIU EZOFOVITCIl. 



^M of the somewhat raised voice the squatting figure in the 
^K corner moved and rose slowly. Heb Mosze with open montli 
^K and stupidly staring eyes came into the light and In his 
^V hoarse voice uttered the monosyllable "Hah ?" 
r At the sight of the man dressed in such primitive and 

nowadays unseen simplicity the lord's face twitched all 
over with suppressed merriment, 

"My good sir,"' he said, turning to the melanied, "ia 
that man deaf and dumb ? I asked him twice whether I 
coold see the Habbi of Szybow and got no answer." Saying 
this he pointed at Todros, who craning his neck in the 
melamed's direction asked, — 

" Wos aagd er ? Wos will er ? " (what does he say ? what 
does he want), Reb Mosze instead of answering, opened 
his mouth still wider, at the same time murmurs and 
whispers became audible from the open window and the 
young gentleman looking into their direction saw a cluster 
of faces peeping into the room. The faces looked in- 
quisitive and a little frightened, he turned towards them 
and asked : 

" Does the Eabhi of Szybow live here ?" 

" He does," said some voices. 

" Where is he then ?" 

A great many fingers pointed at the bench near the wall. 

" What ? that man is your wise and celebrated rabbi ?" 

The faces framed in the open window radiated with a 
peculiar hlisafulnesa and nodded. 

The young man made an heroic effort to control his 
risible muscles and with twinkling eyes lie j>ointed at the 
nielumi-ti. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 245 

^'And whoisthat ?'' 

'* He is the melamed/^ said several voices, '^ a very wise 
and pious man/^ 

The nobleman turned again towards Todros. 

^^ Reverend sir/^ he said, ^^ could I speak alone with 
you for a few minutes ? '' 

Todros remained silent as the grave, but his breath went 
fastep and his eyes grew fiercer. 

^\ Pan Melamed,^' said the nobleman to the barefooted 
man in the long coarse shirt — ^^ perhaps this is a day when 
your rabbi is not allowed to speak ? '' 

^^ Hah ? '' asked drawlingly Eeb Mosze. 

The nobleman half amused, half angry, turned towards 
the people. 

^^ Why do they not answer ? " 

There was a momentary silence. The faces looked per- 
plexedly at each other. 

One of them at last said : ^^ They only understand the 
Jewish language. ^^ 

The owner of Kamionka looked at them in open-eyed 
amazement, he could scarcely believe he had heard aright. 

*^ What ? you don^t mean to say they do not understand 
the language of the country they live in ? '' 

^^Well, they do not understand it.^^ 

There was some indefined resentment in the voice which 
said that. 

At this moment, Isaac Todros drew himself up and rais- 
ing both arms above his head began to speak quickly. 

'* And a day will arrive when the Me^^\^\v, n^Ylq ^^'k^^'^. 
in Paradise, will wake up and desceiiOi w^on ^iXxfe ^"^^^O^- 



246 METIt EZOFOVITCH. 

Then a great war will spread over the world ; Israel will 



r 

^H stand op againet Edoni and Ishmael, until Edom and 
^1 Ishmael will fall at his feet like shattered cedars." 
^M His gestures were at once solemn and threatening, his 

^T eyes blazing, and catching hia breath, he repeated again. 

"Edora and lehmael will lie at the feet of Israel like 
broken cedars and the thunderbolt of the Lord will fall 
npon them and crush them into powder." 

It was no^ the Edomite's turn to look astonished, for he 
did not understand a word. He looked not nnlike a tall 
stately cedar as he stood there, but not like one that could 
be easily crushed into powder. His face was rippling over 
with laughter which he carefully tried to suppress. 

" What does he say ?" he asked the people at the win- 
dow. There was no. answer. All eyes were riveted upon 
the sage and on the melamed's face there was an expres- 
sion of ecstatic rapture. 

" My good people, tell me what he said," repeated the 
nobleman. A deep voice, as if in sarcastic retribution 
answered with another question,—- 

" Did the Gracious Pan not understand ?" 

This ingenuous question put an end to the young man's 
self-control and he burst out into a peal of laughter and 
turned towards the door. 

" Savages !" he murmured to himself, and he laughed 
still when he crossed the precincts and the people who 
crowded round the rabbi's window looked after with as- 
tonished and deeply offended eyes. The young man 
laughed, tickled by the ludicrous aspect of the whole scene : 
yet under his appaTent meT;f\Taw\\. ■OncTft ^sa, wlv wiA«- 



MEIR EZOFOVITCn. 247 

current of resentment and anger, that the Wise Men of 
Israel should have shown themselves to him like savages, 
who did not even speak the language of the country whose 
air they breathed and that had nourished them for many 
centuries. The people round the rabbi's hut followed 
him with displeased looks almost amounting to hatred be- 
cause he had blasphemed what they loved and revered 
beyond anything. Poor Sages of Israel with their wor- 
shippers ! Poor Edomite laughing at the sage and his 
worshippers ! but poorest of all, the country, the sons of 
which, after journeying together for so many centuries, do 
not understand each other^s heart and language. 

At the gate of the precincts, Jankiel Kamionker met the 
young nobleman, — 

^^ Well Jankiel,^^ he said, ^^you have indeed a wise and 
learned rabbi. ^^ Jankiel did not reply to this but began 
at once to speak about the agreement and the Kamionka 
distillery. He spoke glibly and easily and did not appear 
to remember what had occurred, or refer to it. Neither 
did the lord of Kamionka, upon whom the whole scene had 
left an impression of astonishment and amusement. The 
young prophet, and Jankiel with his red curls trying to 
evict him ; the rabbi who only spoke the Jewish language, 
and his companion in the wonderful costume ; it was as 
good as a play. How his friends would enjoy his descrip- 
tion, how the good-natured Pan Andrew would laugh and 
his daughter the beautiful Hedwiga, of whom he thought 
night and day as the believer in his paradise, would smile. 

Thinking of her he jumped into the carriage, «i.TL"l\c>^^\xy^ 
at the west, he exclaimed, — 



248 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

" How long you have kept me ! " 

lie nodded to Jankiel and called to the coachman, — 

** Drive on/^ 

The four grays and the light carriage carried him swiftly 
through the town till he disappeared in a cloud of golden 
dust. In the western sky the red clouds died gradually 
away, and the transparent dusk of an August evening en- 

■ 

veloped the town and darkened the sitting-room in the Ezof o- 
vitch house. Loud and angry voices had reverberated in 
that commonly peaceful household. The shrillest and 
angriest amongst them was that of Eeb Jankiel, who abused 
one after the other all the members of the family, who an- 
swered either angrily or quietly, according to their different 
characters. After that the accusing and threatening man, 
shaking with fury or perhaps terror, had rushed out of the 
house towards the rabbits dwelling ; and those who re- 
mained behind sat silently and motionless as if riveted to 
their chairs by their angry or perplexed feelings. 



MEIIi EZOFOVITCH. 249 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Saul sat on the sofa with his head sunk on his breast, 
his hands lying motionless upon his knees and sighed 
loudly and heavily. Around him on chairs sat Eafael, 
Abram, and Ber. The wives of Rafael and Ber, the much- 
respected and beloved women, entered quietly and sat down 
behind their husbands. In a corner of the room not 
noticed by anybody sat young Chaim, Abram's son and 
Meir^s devoted friend. 

It was Saul who interrupted the silence. 

^' Where is he gone to ?" meaning Jankiel. 

^^ He is gone to denounce him before the rabbi, '^ said 
Abram. 

^^ He will bring Meir before the ecclesiastical tribunal/^ 
said Rafael. 

Saul rocked himself and moaned aloud, — 

*^ Ai ! ai ! my poor head ! Did I live to see a grandson 
of mine brought up to judgment like a thief or robber ?" 

^^ It is as informer he will appear before the judges,^* 
said Abram, swiftly and passionately. 

^^ Something must be done with Meir, father. ^J'hink 
of it and tell us what to do with him. Things cannot re- 
main as they are. He will ruin us and our sons and bring 
shame upon the whole family. Father ! people ^§>e<i to^ 
saj that it was always an Ezofovitcli ^\vo tt\^^ Vci \xw^<£^- 



^H 250 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

^M mine the faith of Israel. That the honse of Todros and 
^V the houEe of Kzofovitch are like two rivere that run io op- 
^1 posite directions hut meet now and then and struggle, to see 
^H which would he the stronger, and to push the other under- 
^r ground. This talk had subsided, people began to forget, 
til! Meir stirred it up again. Something must be done. 
Think of it, father, and we will do as you command us." 

Two red spots appeared on Saul's faue. 

" What ia to he done with him ? " he asked, in a voice 
that sounded like a smothered sob. 

Bafael said, — 

" He must be married as quickly as possible." 

Ber, who had remained silent up to now, observed, — 

" Why not send him into the world ? " 

Saul tbonght a long time and then replied, — 

" Your advice is no good. I cannot punish him se- 
verely. What would my father Hersz say to it, in whose 
footsteps he wishes to go, and whom I am not at liberty to 
judge. I cannot marry liim quickly because the child is 
not like other children, — He is proud and Bensitive and 
does not brook any fetters. Besides he is so disgraced and 
openly rebuked already, that no wealthy or respectable 
Israelite will give him his daughter in marriage." 

Again Saul's voice shook. He had lived to see his 
grandson, the moat beloved of all his children, come down 
BO low that no respectable family would receive him as 
son-in-law. 

" I cannot send him away, either," he continued, "be- 
cause I am afraid tha,t in the world he will lose all that is 
left of hia fathers' laitla. 1 awi ™ ftit \«ft\'tvm. ^A. ■(}!«> ^vti^. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 251 

and wise rabbi of whom it is written that he had a reck- 
less son who ate chazar (pork) in secret. People advised 
him to send his son out into the world and expose him to 
misery and a wandering life. But he replied, ^Let my 
son remain at home. The sight of his father's troubled 
and sorrowful face may soften his heart and lead him to 
a better life; stern misery will change it into hard 
stone.*'' 

Saul became silent, all around were silent, nothing was 
heard but now and then a sigh from the women. 

The room became darker and darker. 

After a while, in a subdued, almost timid voice, Ber be- 
gan : " Allow me to open my heart before you to-day. I speak 
but seldom, because as often as I want to speak the re- 
membrance of my younger years seems to rise before me 
and smother my voice, therefore it is the voice least heard 
of all the voices in the family. I left off speaking or 
advising, and looked only after my business and my fam- 
ily. But I must speak now. Why trouble so much about 
Meir ? Give him his liberty, let him go into the world, 
and do not punish him either by your anger or dooming 
him to poverty. What wrong has he done ? He keeps all 
the commandments faithfully, has studied the holy books ; 
all the members of our family, even the poor, ignorant 
people, love him like their own soul. What do you want 
from him ? What has he done ? Why should you punish 
him ? '' 

Ber's speech, delivered in a lazy, half-timid voice, made 
a deep impression upon all those present. H.\^N^\i^^^^^, 
evidently frightened, pulled him by t\ie ^\^eN^ ^\AVcv\^- 



r 



252 MEin EZoFOViTcn. 

pered, " Hush, Ber 1 hush 1 they will be angry with yoH 
for your rash words. " 

Saul raised his head several times aud bent it down 
agiiin. One might have aaid that gratitude for Ber's 
defence of hig grandson struggled with hia rieing anger. 

"Ber, your own Bins have spoken through your mouth. 
You stand up for Meir because yon were once what he is 
now," said the passionate Abram. 

Rafael, with hia usual gravity, said, — 

" You say, Ber, that he has nbt sinned against the ten 
commandments. That is true ; but jon forget that the cove- 
nant does not stand alone upon the ten commandmentfl 
■which Moses brought from Sinai, but also upon the six hun- 
dred and thirteen which the great Tanaites, Amoraits and 
Gaons, with other Wise Men, have put down in the Tal- 
mud. "W'e owe not oidy obedience to the ten, but also to 
the six hundred and thirteen of the Talmud, and Meir 
has transgressed many of them." 

" He has sinned greatly," called out Abram, " but the 
greatest and blackest sin he committed to-day, when he 
denounced a brother Israelite before the stranger, and thus 
broke the solidarity and faith of his people. What wUl 
become of us if we accuse each other before the stranger ? 
Whom shall we love and shield, if not our brethren, who 
are bones of our bones and our blood. He felt more sorry 
for a stranger than for a brother Israelite, and for that he 
ought to— — " 

The violent and impulsive man broke off his sentence in 
the middle and remained open-mouthed, like one turned to 
a tone. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 253 

He sat opposite the window, at which he stared now 
with stupefied eyes. 

'^What is that?^' he called out in a trembling voice. 
^^ What is that ?" he repeated in a frightened voice. 

"What is that?'* said everybody, and all except Saul 
rose from their seats. 

The room, which had been quite dark, became suddenly 
lighted up, as if by the reflection of thousands of torches 
from without ; not only the house of Ezofovitch, but the 
whole sky above was illuminated by a red glare. 

The men and women stood spellbound in the middle of 
the room and looked silently at the fiery volumes, which 
rose higher and higher into the heavens above. 

" How quickly he has done the deed,'' said Abram. 

Nobody answered. 

The little town, so quiet a moment before, became sud- 
denly very noisy and tumultuous. No nation in the world 
is so easily carried away by sensations of any kind. This 
time the sensation was a powerful one. It was roused by 
the mighty element which carries destruction upon earth 
and lifts its blood-red banner up to the skies. The 
noise of thousands of running feet re-echoes in the streets 
like the rushing of many waters. The square was black 
with a dense crowd, which swiftly and noisily moved into 
one direction. Above the din of all the voices single 
words were heard now and then more distinctly. 

^^ Kamionka ! It is the Kamibnka estate ! '' exclaimed 
those that knew the country. 

"Hear ! hear ! it is Kamionka !" took u^ ^ <^^\\i^ ^ 
Yoices, 



r 



254 MEiic EZOFOVircn. 

"Ai! ai ! such a fine place ! Buchamagnificent piacel'' 

Those were the last words which reached the inmates o£ 
Esofovitch's houae. The crowd streamed on, and the 
Toicea sounded faint and far oS. 

Then Saul rose from the sofa, and, his face turned 
towards the window, lie stood silent and motionless. 

Then he raised his trembling hands and said, in a faUer- 
iiig voice : " In my father Hersz's time and in my own 
time such things did not happen, and sins like that wera 
not in Israel. Our hands spread gold and silver over the 
land, but not fire and tears," 

He paused a few momenta gazing thoughtfully at the 
window. " My fatlier Hersz, and his grandfather lived in 
friendsliip, they often conversed together about important 
affaire and the lord of Kamionka. he wore then a gold 
brocaded sash and a sword at his side, said to my father 
Hersz : Ezofvitch, you are a large-hearted man and a far- 
seeing man, if our side win, we will make a nobleman of 
you at the Diet — Ilia son was not quite like his father, 
but he always spoke courteously to me, and I bought hia 
corn for thirty years. AVhenever he wanted money, I was 
always ready, because his estate brought much gain to me. 
The lady of Kamionka, she is still living, liked my mother 
Freida very much ; she used to say : ' Mistress Freida haa 
a great many diamonds and I have only one.' She called 
her son, her diamond, who was like the apple of her eye, 
the same son whose house is now in flames," and he pointed 
at the fiery columns, with a silent gesture of grief and 
horror. 

Then Kafael spoke. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH, 255 

^' When I was last time at Kamionka, the old lady was 
sitting with her son upon the balcony, and when I began 
to speak about business, she said to him : 

^^ ^ Remember, Sigismond, never sell your corn to anybody 
but to an Ezofovitch ; they are amongst the Jews the most 
honest and most friendly toward us/ And after that she 
began asking whether old Freida were still alive, and her 
son Saul, and whether he had many grandchildren. Then 
she looked at her son and said to me. ^ Pan Eafael, I have 
no grandsons ! ^ And I bowed politely and said : ^ May the 
Gracious Lady live a hundred years and see a great many 
grandsons of her own !^ — I did not put a lie into her ear, I 
sincerely wished her well, why should I not wish her well ? '^ 
Rafael left off speaking, and Saul, turning towards him, 
asked, — 

^^ Rafael, has he ever wronged you ? '' 

Rafael thought a little and then replied, — 

^^ No. He has never done me the slightest wrong. He 
is a little proud, that is true, and does not look sharp after 
his business ; he is fond of amusements, and when an Israel- 
ite bows to him, he gives him a careless nod and does not try 
to make a friend of him . . . but his heart is good, and his 
word is his bond, and in business he is more likely to wrong 
himself than anybody else. '^ 

Sara who stood near her husband, wrung her hands and 
rocking her body sighed mournfully ; — 

" A'i ! ai ! such a handsome gentleman to have such a 
misfortune happen to him.^^ 

'^ Such a fine young man, and he was going to \s\ax?c^ 
such a heautitul young lady," said the >N\le oi^Ra&a.^^ 



256 MKIR EZOFOriTCH. 



r" And how will he be able to marry now, when 
ruined ?" said Saul, and added in a lower voice : "A great 
sin has been committeil in Israel ! " 
"A great shame has fallen to-day on Isniel's head," said 
Kafael. 

From a comer of the room where the glare penetrated 
least, came or rather crept forth Abram. Bent almost ui 
two, and trembling in every limb he kissed his father's 
hand. 

"Father," he said, "I thank you that you saved me 
from it." 

Saul raised his head. The color came baok to his face 
and energy gleamed in his eyes. 

"Abram," he said, in a commanding tone, "have your 
horsea ready at once and drive as quick as yon can on to the 
estate where the young lord is staying. He cannot see the 
conflagration from there ; drive quickly and tell him to 
come and save hia property and his mother." 

" You, Rafael, go at once to Jankiel'a and Leiaor's inns 
where the peasants are drinking. Tell them to drive home 
quickly to save their lord's property." 

Obedient like little children, Saul's two sous left the 
room at once and the women went out into the porch. 
Then Ber came close to Saul. 

"Father ! what do you think now of Meir ? Was he 
not right to warn the lord of Kamionka ? " 

Saul bent his head, but did not answer. 

"Father,"saidBer, "saveMeir!" Qo to the rabbi, and 
to the dahons, (judges) and elders, ask them not to bring 
him before their tribnnal." 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 257 

Saul did not answer for a long while. 

'^ It is very difficult for me to go/^ he said at last, ^* the 

hardest task to humble my gray head before Todros,"' 

but, he added after a pause, " I will go to-morrow — we 

must stand up for the child — though he be rash and do 

not pay due reverence to the faith and customs of his 

father/' 
17 



^^^^^^ 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 



CHAPTER IX. 



Whilst the above took place in the house of Ezofovitch, 
the little meadow elofle to the town waa covered by a waving, 
mOrmiiriug and compact mass of people. From this spot 
the terrible conflagration could be seen the most distinctly, 
therefore tlie whole population, eager and greedy for aenga- 
tion, congregated there. 

The reflected light of the fire rose above the pine forest, 
which was enveloped in a rosy light and so transparent 
that every branch and stem conld be seen distinctly. The 
wide half-circle of the glare, dark red below, grew paler 
and paler above, till the golden yellow light lost itself in 
the pale blue aby. The stars twinkled with a feeble nn- 
certain light, and on the opposite aide, beyond the birch- 
wood rose the red ball of the moon. 

Amongst the population, sentences and words, quick and 
sharp, whizzed about like pistol shots. Somebody was 
telling that when Jankiel Kamionker beard about the fire 
he had gone off to the estate tearing his hair like a mad- 
man, wailing and lamenting over the loss of the spirits 
whichhe had there in such quantities. Hearing this, many 
people smiled knowingly, others shook their heads compas- 
sionately at the supposed heavy losses of Jankiel, but the 
greater part of the people kept silence, and not as much 
as mentioned JankieVa uame ut \i\ft 



MEIR EZOFOVITCff. 259 

the truth, here and there somebody knew about it ; but 
nobody dared to meddle in a business so full of danger 
with an unwary word. 

A full hour after the first gleam of the fire had been 
noticed, a light carriage and four gray horses were seen in 
full gallop across the streets in the direction of the 
meadow. 

It was not the regular road to Kamionka, in fact, there 
was no road at all ; but by driving across the meadow, the 
young owner shortened his way considerably. He did not 
sit in the carriage, but stood straight up, holding on by 
the box-seat, and kept his eyes fixed upon the red glare of 
the flames, where his mother was, and which were con- 
suming the house of his fathers. 

When the horses came upon the meadow and he saw the 
crowd, he shouted to the coachman, — 

*^ Be careful ; do not hurt the people.'' 

*^ A good man,'' said one in the crowd, ^^ at such a 
moment he still thinks of other people." 

Some groaned aloud. 

A few heads clustered together, whispering. The name 
of Jankiel was whispered low — very low. 

But there was a spot, not on the meadow, but in the 
little street close to, where people talked aloud. Near 
Izmul's hut, upon the bench before the window, » stood 
Meir. Thence he looked at the meadow, black with people, 
and at the red glare of the fire ; around him in the street, 
stood a dozen or more of the young men, his friends. Their 
faces looked excited and indignant. 

Chaim, the son of Abram, who an laoui \i^iQt^ V^^"^^^^ 



r 



It 



260 MEIR EZfiFOVlTCn. 

an unseen witness to Saul's couversatioii with his sons, told 
ills friends about it. Carried away by his indignation, he 
repeated in a loud voice every word that had passed, be 
emphasized every word and hia friends re-echoed them. The 
young and usually timid spirits grew bolder under the 
pressure of shame and exasperation. Only one voice wae 
missing amongst the chorus of young voices, the most 
prominent of all, because the leading spirit of the young 
people. Eliezor was not amongst those who crowded round 
Meir ; but sat apart, leaning against the black wall of the 
hut. Hip elbows vested on his knees and hia face was 
buried in his hands. He looked like one petrified in this 
position ; full of grief and shame. From time to time he 
rocked his body slightly. The dreamy, timid spirit was 
overwhelmed witli bitter and desperate thoughts. 

Presently, from beyond the corner of the street, a black, 
thin shadow glided swiftly along the walls, and close by 
the group of young men, the heavy panting, almost moan- 
ing, of an exhausted human being, became andible. 
" Izmnl 1 " said the young men. 

" Hush ! " said Meir in .1 low voice, jumping down from 
the bench. "Let nobody utter the name of the miserable 
man, so as not to bring him into danger. I liave been 
standing here to watch for his return, tio away from 
here and remember that your eyea have not seen Izmnl 
coming from that direction, not seen^" 

"You arc right," whispered Ariel, "he is our poor 
brother." 

Poor brother, poor, poor 1 " tliey repeated all round. 

Tliey dispersed at once. Near the hut remained only 



MElTt EZOFOVITCE. 261 

Meir and Eliezer, whom nothing could rouse from his 
stupor. 

Izmul ran into the hut, deserted by every one except the 
blind mother and the smallest children. There he threw 
himself at full length upon the floor and beat his forehead 
in the dust, sobbing and moaning he muttered in broken 
sentences, — 

*^ I am not guilty, not guilty, not guilty. I did not 
fire it. I did not hold the vessel full of oil ; he, Jochel 
did all that, I stood on watch in the fields — when I saw 
the fire — ai' ! ai ! I understood what I had been doing — 

^^ Hush ! '^ said a low, sorrowful voice close to the despair- 
ing, almost senseless man. ^^Hold your tongue, Izmul, 
till I shut the door and window.'' 

Izmul raised his face, but again dropped it on the dusty 
floor. 

*^ Moreine,'' he moaned, ^^ moreine, my daughters were 
growing up, it was necessary to marry them, I had no 
money to pay the taxes with for the whole year.'' 

^^ Get up and calm yourself,'' said Meir. 

Izmul did not listen. With his lips sweeping the dusty 
boards he kept on moaning. 

^^ Moreine ! save me. I am lost, body and soul." 

*^ You have not lost your soul, Izmul. The Eternal will 
weigh your poverty against your sin ; that is if you do not 
take the money with which bad people tempted you."" 

This time Izmul lifted his face from the floor. The 
lean and ashy pale face, covered with dust and twitching 
with nervous terror, presented a picture of the deepest 
human misery. 



I 



2 MEIft EZOFOVITCII. 

He looked at Meir with deapairiog eyes, aud pointiug at 
the miserable room, he groaned, — 

Moreiue ! how ahall we be able to live without that 
mouey ?" 

Fully half an hour passed before Meir left the cottage, 
where the outcast Izmul accused himself, wailed, and 
moaned in a voice which gradually became lower till it 
almost sunk to a whisper, Theruddy glow from the street 
fell upon one comer of the dark entrance. There, coiled 
up between the goata, his head resting upon a projecting 
board, with the red light of the fire upon liis face, slept 
Tieibele. Neither noise nor the glare of the fire, not even 
the lamentations of his unhappy father, had disturbed his 
innocent sleep amongst his friends, the goats. 




MMIM EZOFOVITCH. 263 



CHAPTER X. 

Next morning an unusual stir prevailed amongst the 
inhabitants of the town. The common topic of all their 
conversation was the conflagration of the Kamionka estate. 
The whole house was reduced to ashes, nearly all the out- 
buildings had burned down, the barn and ricks with all the 
yearns harvest had been devoured by the flames. 

The old lady, the lord of Kamionka's mother, was very 
ill and had been carried into a neighbor's house. 

To discuss these and other items of news, people stood 
in groups about the streets or before their houses ; all the 
ordinary business of their everyday life seemed suspended 
for the time being. 

Now and then amongst the groups a single question was 
heard repeatedly, — 

" What will become of him ? " 

The question had nothing whatever to do with the ruined 

young nobleman, but meant Jankiel. 

Some pitied the former sincerely, as also some blamed 
the latter ; but the landowner was to them a perfect 

stranger, known to most of them only by sight. Jankiel 

Kamionker was connected with them by a thousand threads 

of common interest and friendship ; besides that, he was 

surrounded with the halo of wealth and the reputation of 

ardent piety. No wonder that even those who bl«»YCL^<l\skKs. 

trembled for bis safety. 



i 



^V 264 ^tEIIl EZOFOriTCH. 

^B "Will tbey suspect liim?" asked somebody here aiiil 

^1 there. 

^1 " Nobody would have dreamed of suspecting bim, bntlor 

^1 Meir Ezofovitcb putting bad tbougbta into their heads," 

^r was said here and there. 

"He has broken the solidarity and covenant ot 
Israel." 

" What else could you expect ? He is a Bofrim, a 
heretic ! " 

" He dared to raise hia hand against Reb Mosze ? '' 
" He lives in friendship with the Karaitish girl ? " 
Those that spoke cast ominous, threatening, glances into 
the direction of Ezofovitch's dwelling. 

The house was unusually quiet and lifeless. Tbe win- 
dows looking upon the square, which as a rnle in summer 
time were open, so that anybody could see the daily life 
of people who had nothing to conceal, were sliut to-day. 
Nobody had remembered to open them, or to straighten the 
sittiug-room, as a rule kept in such perfect order. The 
women wandered aimlessly from one place to another, their 
caps were crushed and in disorder from their frequently 
putting their hands upon their heads : they stood before 
the kitchen fire and sighed distractedly. Sara's eyes were 
red ; her husband Ber had two deep wrinkles on his fore- 
head, a sure sign to her that he suffered grievously. He 
did not open his lips to her but sat with his head resting 
on hia hand looking vacantly at his brothers-in-law. 
Rafael had his account books before him, but his thoughts 
were elsewhere aa he raised hia head frequently and looked 
at hia brothers. Old SilvA sat ou v\vft wla.. 



1 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 265 

sacred books, but, judging by his countenance, derived but 
little comfort from them. 

Near the window in her deep easy-chair sat the great- 
grandmother dozing. Hers was the only face that did not 
show any change or lose any of its usual serenity. She 
opened now and then her eyes, then dozed off again. Soon 
after twelve o^clock the women busied themselves with 
arranging the table for dinner. 

The door opened softly, Meir entered the room, and stand- 
ing close to the wall, his eyes looked around at all the 
faces. It was a troubled look, almost timid and very sor- 
rowful. Those present raised their eyes at him for a second 
only, but in the short instant a heavy load of mute re- 
proaches fell upon the young man. It was the reproach 
of people used to a quiet, peaceful life, for past troubles and 
troubles still to come ; there was some pity in it for the 
offender and also a threat of casting him off. 

Only the great grandmother opened her eyes, when she 
saw him and with a smile murmured, — 

'' Kleiniskind ? '' 

Meir^s eyes rested tenderly and thoughtfully upon her 
face. At this moment there came a sudden dash and heavy 
thump. From amongst the groups that looked angrily at 
EzofovitcVs house somebody had thrown a heavy stone 
which, breaking the window, flew close over Frieda's head 
and fell into the middle of the room. 

SauFs face became of a dull red, the women arranging 
the table screamed in terror, Rafael, Abram and Ber 
jumped up suddenly. 

All stared at the broken window, \iut ^^^^^^1^1 ^Ocissx ^^j^- 



MEIR E'lOFOVITCU. 




V 266 

^H tention became coiicoDtrated upon the great graQdmotber, 
^H Preida, who stood straight up and looked attentively at the 
^1 Btoue in the middle of the room ; then called out in her 
^M loud tuneless whisper, — 

^r " It ia the same stone ! they threw it through the win- 

dow the same, when Reb Nochim quarrelled with Hersz 
because he wanted to live iu friendship witli the Btrangers. 
— It is the same stone— at whom did they throw it now ? 
All the wrinkles in her face quivered and her eyes, for the 
first time wide open, travelled about the room. "At 
whom did they throw it," she repeated. 

"At me, dear bobe," replied from the opposite wall a 
voice full of unspoken grief. 

" Meir ! " exclaimed the great grandmother — not in her 
nBual loud whisper, hut in a loud almost piercing voice. 
Meir crossed the room, stood before her and took the little 
wrinkled hand caressingly in his own. He looked at her 
with eyes full of tenderness and as if in mute entreaty ; 
she seemed to feel his look, for her eyelids flickered trem- 
ulously and restlessly. Saul rose from the sofa. 
" Kafael," he said, " give me my cloak and hat ? " 
"Where are you going, father ?" asked both sons, simul- 
taneously. 

"I am going to humble my head before the rabbi ; to 
ask him to delay his judgment over my headstrong child 
until the anger in the hearts of the people has sub- 
sided." 

Presently the gray-headed patriarch of the greatest 
family in the town, dressed in his long cloak and tall shiny 
bat, was seen crossing slowly and gravely the market square. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 267 

The groups standing about made way for him, bowing 
respectfully. 

Somebody said loudly, — 

^* Poor Keb Saul to have such a grandson/' 

The old man did not reply, but pressed his lips closer 
together. 

More than an hour had elapsed when Saul returned from 
his errand. 

He found all the elder members of the family in the 
same position as he had left them. Meir sat close to the 
easy-chair of the great-grandmother, who tightly clutched 
him by his coat sleeve. 

Sara met her father and relieved him of his hat and 
cloak. • 

*^ What news do you bring, father ? '^ asked Rafael. 

Saul breathed heavily and looked gloomily at the floor. 

*^ What could I bring from there ? '^ he said after a mo- 
mentary silence, ^^ but shame and humiliation. The heart 
of Todros rejoices over the misfortune of the house of 
Ezofovitch. Smiles, like reptiles, are writhing and crawl- 
ing over his yellow face.'' 

^^ And what did he say ? " asked several voices. 

^^ He said he had been far too forbearing towards my 
godless, insolent grandson — that Reb Mosze, Kami- 
onker, and all the people were urging him to sit in 
judgment upon Meir — at my intercession he would 
put off the trial until to-morrow after sunset, and said if 
Meir humbled himself and asked his and the people's 
pardon, the sentence would be less severe." 

All eyes turned towards Meir. 



I 



2fiS MEIlt EZOFOVlTCn. 

'• Whut Jo you say to it?" asked a chorus of voices. 

Meir looked thoughtfully down. 

" Give me time, till to-morrow," he pleaded. "I may 
perhaps find a wny out of it." 

" How cau you find a way ?" they exclaimed. 

" Allow me not to answer you till to-morrow," repeated 
Meir. 

They nodded and hecame silent. It was a mute 
consent. 

In all of the hearts fear and anger were struggling with 
family pride. They felt angry with Meir, yet tremhled for 
hia fate, aud the very thought that a member of their fam- 
ily should humble himself publicly before the rabbi and 
the people seemed almost unbearable, 

"Who knows ?" whispered Rafael, "he may find a way 
to avoid it." 

" Perhaps hie mother will appear to him in his sleep and 
tell him what to do," sighed Sara. 

The belated dinner passed off in gloomy silence, inter- 
rupted only by the sighs of the women and a smothered 
sob from the children, who had been forbidden to laugh 
and chatter. 

The grieved and mournfiil faces looked now and then at 
Freida, who showed an unusual restlessness. She did not 
speak, but neither did she doze during the meal, but 
moved uneasily in her chair, looked at Meir, then at the 
shattered window, and in the middle of the room on the 
spot where the stone bad fallen down. 

" What ails her ? " asked the memhera of the family, 
of each other, in apeTti\tbet!L\o\(^e. 




MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 269 

" She is recalling something to her mind/^ others re- 
plied. ^' She is afraid of something. She wants to speak 
but cannot find the words. '^ 

When the dinner was over, two great-granddaughters 
wanted as usual to help Freida into the next room and lay 
her down to rest, but she planted her feet firmly on the 
ground and pointed to the easy-chair near the window. 
Presently the inmates of the room began gradually to dis- 
perse. 

Kaf ael and Ber went driving away to a neighboring estate 
where they had some important business to transact. 
Abram shut himself up in his room to look after his ac- 
counts, or perhaps to read. Saul gave orders to his daugh- 
ter to keep the house quiet, and sighing wearily, lay down 
upon his bed. The women after raking out the fire in the 
kitchen, shut the door of the sitting-room and betook 
themselves with their needlework into the courtyard, where 
they watched the children at play and conversed together 
in a low voice. The great-grandmother remained alone 
in the sitting-room. 

Strange to say, though perfect silence reigned in the 
house, she did not fall asleep or even doze for one mo- 
ment. 

She sat in the easy-chair with her eyes wide open, and 
looking at the broken window, her lips kept moving con- 
tinually as if she were speaking to herself. Sometimes she 
rocked her head, heavy with the voluminous turban, and 
the diamonds fiashed out and glittered in the sudden mo- 
tion, And the pendants jingled against the lvak& ol^V^'^ 
golden chain. Her lips moved incessaiiW^ \ ^x^%^\&:s^ "^^ 



270 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 



f 

^M her hands moved quickly. It seemed as if she spoke witli 
^^ somebody, with the spirits of the Past, who came forth 
^1 from the clouded memory. Suddenly she rocked her head 
^V and said aloud, — 

^F "It W8S the same when my Hersz found the writing of 

the Senior — Bad people threw stones at him." 

She atoppeii, great tears gathered in her eyes and ran 
slowly down the withered cheeks. 

Meir rose from the bencli where he had been sitting, 
crossed the room quickly, sat down on the low stool where 
the old woman rested her feet, and putting his folded hands 
upon her knee, asked,— 

" Bobe ! where is the writing of the Senior ?" 

At the sound of the voice which, as well as the face, re- 
minded her of the man she had loved so well, and the days 
of her youth and happiness, she smiled. Her eyes full of 
tears did not look at the great-grandson, but Bomewhere 
far beyond, and she began to whisper, — 

" The day he quarrelled with Rob Nochim and angered 
the people, he came home and sat down sorrowful upon 
the bench and called his wife, Freida. Freida was then 
young and beautiful ; she wore a white turban and stood 
before the kitchen fire, looking after her servants ; but 
when siie heard her husband's voice she went in at once 
and stood before him, waiting for his words. 

"'Freida!' he said 'where is the writing of the 
Senior. 

'Then suddenly the whisper ceased. The young man 
sitting at her feet pressed his hands convulsively togetlier 
aad aske^ again, — ' 



2fBJIB EZOFOVITCH. 271 



<< 



Bobe ! where is the writing of the Senior ! '' 

The old woman gently swayed her head and the lips 
moved. 

^^ He asked : ^ Where is the writing of the Senior ? Did 
the Senior bury it in the ground ? No ! he could not 
have buried it, as dampness and worms would have de- 
stroyed it. Did he hide it in the walls ? No ! he knew 
that fire might destroy the walls. Where did he hide it ?' 
Thus asked Hersz, and his wife Freida pondered over his 
words and then pointed at the bookcase where the Senior^s 
old books were preserved and said : ' Hersz, my Hersz ! 
the writing is there.* When Freida said that, Hersz re- 
joiced and said : ^ You, Freida, have a wise head, and your 
soul is as beautiful as your eyes.*" And smiling at the 
dim pictures of her youthful days, she whispered, — 

'' Then he said : ^ a virtuous woman is far above rubies 
and her husband doth trust in her ! '' 

The young man looked at her with entreating eyes 
and asked again, — 

^' Bobe ! what did Hersz do with the writing ? ** 

The old woman did not answer at once, but her lips 
moved silently as if she spoke with an invisible being and 
then took up the thread of her tale again. 

^^ Hersz came back from a long journey, deeply grieved, 
and said to Freida : ' Everything is lost. We must hide 
the Senior^s writing again ; it is of no use now.* Freida 
asked : ^ Hersz ! where will you hide the writing. * Hersz 
replied : ^ I will hide it where it was before, and you alone, 
Freida, will know the secret.* 

Meir's eyes -sparkled in sudden ^oy. 



f ' 

^V 272 3IEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

^H " Bobe ! is the writiug there ? " 

^B And he pointed at the old bookcase ; hut Freida did 

^B not answer, but continued to whisper, — 

^M "He aaid : 'You alone will know the secret. And 

^f when the time is drawing near and your soul about to leave 
your body tel! it to the son or grandson who resemblea 
most your husband, — and which of my sons or grandsons 
is moat like my husband Hersz ? It is Meir, the son ot 
Benjamin, who is like him as two grains of sand are like 
each other — he is my little child, the dearest of all. 
Freida will tell him the secret." 

Meir held both the iiands of his great grandmother in 
ilia own, and covered them with kisses. 

" Bobe," he whispered, " Is the writing there?" pointing 
at the bookcase. But the old woman atiU followed the 
thread of her musings." 

"Ilersz said to Freida: ' If the elders of the family 
raise their liands against him and the people throw stones 
at him. you, Freida, tell him the secret. Let bim take 
the writing of the Senior to his heart and leave everything, 
his house and ivealth and family, and go forth into tlie 
world ; for that writing is more precious than gold and 
pearls. It is the covenant of Israel with tlie Present, 
which flows like a great river over their heads and with 
the nations wiio tower around him like great mountains." 
" Bobe I tlio elders of the family have risen up against 
me, the people have thrown stones at me— I am that 
dearest grandson of whom your husband Hersz spoke — 
tell me, is the writing amongst those old volumes ?" 
^1 broad almost trium\A\an\ s>uAft W^Xsi \\'^ the 



HEIR EZOFOVITCU. 273 

wrinkled face. She shook her head with a feeling of 
secret joy, and whispered, — 

" Preida has watched over her husband's treasure and 
guarded it like her own sonl. When she becaiuo a widow, 
Reb Nochim Todros came to her house and wanted io 
have the bookcase and its volumes put into the fire, then 
Heb Baruch Todros came and wanted to burn the books : 
but whenever they came, Freida screened the bookcase 
with her own body and said : ' This is my honse and every- 
thing in it, is my own.' And when Freida stood before 
the bookcase, Freida's sons and grandsons stood beiore her 
and said : ' It is oor mother, we will not let her be harmed. 
Heb Nochim was very angry and went away— Reb Isaac 
did not come, because he knew from his fathers that 
as long as Freida lives nobody touches the old book- 

" Freida has watched over her husband's treasure, it 
remains there and sleeps in peace." 

With these last words the old woman pointed her thin 
hand at the bookcase, which stood not far from her, and a 
quiet laugh, a laugh of joy and almost childish triumph, 
shook her aged breast." 

With one bound Meir reached the bookcase, and with 
a powerful hand shook the old, rusty lock. The door flew 
open and a clond of dust burst forth whicli covered Meir's 
head as it had once, long ago, covered Hersz's golden hair 
and Freida's white turban. He did not heed it but 
phinged his hands amongst the books from which his 
ancestors had drawn their wisdom and where tli*S. W^ 
bidden ivfi/cJj was to direct him on \iw wu.^-. 



i 



274 MIER EZOFOVITCH. 

At the eight of the open 'bookcase and the clouds of 
dust, Freidu stretched forth her arms, and called out,— 

" Hersz ! Hersz ! my own Hersz ! " 

It waB not the usual tuneless whisper, but a loud cry 
wrung from the heart foil of the joys and griefs of the 

it. She had forgotten the great grandson, and thought 
the tall, golden-haired youth, covered with dust, was her 
husband, come back to her from unknown worlds. 

Meir turned hie excited face and burning eyes to her. 

"Bobe!" he said breathlessly. "Whereisit? Onthe 
top ? Below ? in this book ? that or that ? " 

" In that," said, the woman, pointing at the book upon 
which Meir's hand rested. Presently a roll of yellow papers 
rustled under the parchment coyer of the volume. Hold- 
ing them in his hands, Meir fell down before his great 
grandmother and kissed her hanils and feet. 

Freida smiled and touched his head gently, but by and 
by her eyelids drooped and the whole face took the espres- 
sion of sweet dreaminess again. Tired with the strain 
upon her clouded memory, looking atill into the bright 
dreamland of the past, the centenarian had fallen asleep, 
touched as it were by a gentle wave of the eternal sleep. 

The passionate outpourings of thanks did not roase her 
again. Meir hid the precious papers on his breast and 
went swiftly upstairs, towards the top of the house, where 
bis yonng cousins dwelt. 




k . 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 275 



CHAPTER XL 

During the whole evening and the greater part of the 
night, the large window, near the pointed roof, flickered 
with an uncertain light and people were seen moving 
about constantly. At the early dawn some people came 
out of the house by a side door and went into different 
directions. 

Soon afterwards, strange news began to circulate about 
the town. The news was undefined, vague, told and ex- 
plained in different ways, but such as it was, excited 
the liveliest curiosity amongst the people. The everyday 
work seemed to go on as usual, but in midst of the dashing 
and rattling of implements of handiwork a continual hum 
of conversation was going on. Nobody could point out 
the source from which sprung all the rumors which excited 
the public mind, they seemed to be floating in the air and 
pervading all the streets and alleys. 

" To-day after sunset, the elders of the Cahala and the 
judges, with Rabbi Isaac at their head, will sit in judgment 
upon Meir Ezofovitch.^^ 

^' How will they judge him ? What will they do to him ? ^' 

^' No ! there will be no judgment. The bold grandson 
of Rebe Saul will come to the Bet-ha-Midrash and confess 
his sins before the rabbi and the people and ask forgive- 
ness ! ^' 



r 



276 JtfB7R EZOFOVITCn. 

No he will not humble himself, or ask forgiveness 
Why shonld he not ? " 

Ah ! ah ! it is a great secret, but everybody kiiowB 
about it, and everybody's eyes bum with curiosity. 
Youug Meir has found a treasure !" 
What treasure ? A treasure which has been buried 
for five hundred years, a thousand years, ever since the 
Jews came into this country, in the house of Ezofovitch. 

' ' The treasure is the writing of one of their ancestors 
left as a legacy to his descendants." 

" What does the writing say ? " 

"Nobody knows for certain." 

Alt the inhabitants of the poorer streets had heard some- 
thing about it from their fathers and grandfathers ; but 
everybody had heard it different. Some said it was the 
writing of a wise and saintly Israelite, who lived long ago 
and who wanted to make his nation powerful and wise. 

Others maintained that this same ancestor of Ezofovitch 
was an unbeliever, bribed by the, stranger to destroy the 
name of Israel and the holy covenant from the face of the 
earth. 

"The writing was to teach people how to make gold 
out of sand, and tells poor people how to get rich." 

"No ! itteacheshow to drive away the evil spirits, so that 
they cannot touch yon and how to transpose the letters of 
God's names, into a word, with which you can work 
miracles." 

" The writing teaches how to make friends ont of your 
enemies and to enter into a covenant of pence with all the 
nations. Somebody heard that it showed the way iiow lo 



99 



MEIR EZOFOVlTCn. 277 

bring Moses back to life again and call on him to bring his 
people out of bondage into the land which flows with gold 
and wisdom/^ 

" Why did they not search for that treasure sooner." 
*' They were afraid. It is said whoever touches that writ- 
ing will be scorched with fire and burned into powder. 
" Serpents will twist themselves around the heart of him. 
^' His forehead will became as black as soot." 
" Happiness and peace will go from him forever ! " 
^' Stones will fall upon him like hail ! " 
*^ His forehead will be branded with a red mark ! " 
Long, long ago, there still lived people who remembered 
it, the great merchant Hersz Ezof ovitch, Saul's father, had 
touched that writing. 

^' And what became of liim ? " 

'* The old people said that when he touched those papers, 
serpents coiled round his heart and bit him, so that he died 
young." 

^^ And now young Meir has found that writing ? " 
" Yes, he found it and is going to read it before the peo- 
ple in Bet-ha-Midrash after sunset." 

Going to and fro amongst the people who exchanged the 
above opinions was Keb Mosze, the melamed ; he appeared 
first in one street, then in another ; was seen in one court 
and near another's window, always listening intently ; he 
smiled now and theii and his eyes gleamed, but he said 
nothing. When directly appealed to by the people, and 
urged to give an opinion, he shook his head gloomily and 
muttered unintelligible sentences. He could not say 
anything, as he had not spoken to the master yet, to whom 



278 MEirt EZOFOVITCIT. 



^m 271 

^H out of fanatical faith and mystic passionate attachment he 
^P had given himself np body and soul. Without definite 
^B orders from the revered sage, he dared not give an opinion 
^m or settle things even in his own mind. lie might unwill- 
^B ingly act against the master's wish or transgress any of tlie 
^1 thousands of precepts. Though he knew them all b; heart 
^M yet he might fail to catch the deeper meaning without 
the guiding spirit. The melamed was fully conscious of 
his own wisdom, yet what did it mean in comparison with 
the rabbi's, whose mind pierced the very heavens. Jehovah 
looted upon him with pleased eyes, aud wondered how he 
could have created such a perfect being as Rabbi Isaac 
TodroB. About noon, when his mind and ears were full of 
what he had heard, he glided silently into the rabbi's hut. 
He could not get the rabbi's ear at once because the latter 
was conversing with an old man, whose dustyj travel- 
stained garments, showed that he had come from a great 
distance ; he stood now leaning on his stick before the 
rabbi, looking at him with humble and at the same time 
radiant eyes. " I dearly wished," be said, in a voice trem- 
bling from old age and emotion, "to go to Jerusalem to 
die in the land of our fathers. But I am poor and I have 
no money for the journey. Give nie, oh, rabbi, a handful 
of the sand which they bring to yoii from there every year, 
so that my grandchildren may scatter it upon my breast, 
when the soul is about to leave the body. "With that hand- 
ful of soil, I shall lie easier in my grave." 

The rabbi took some white sand out of a curefuUy 
wrapped-up bag and gave it to the old man. 
The man's whole face lighted uj) with joy, he carefully 



UftI 



■:? '. 






MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 279 

secured the precious relic under his ragged garments and 
then kissed the rabbi's hand with fervent gratitude. 

^^Eabbi/* he said, ^^I have nothing to pay you with/' 

Todros craned his yellow neck towards him. 

^^ You have come from a far country, indeed, if you do 
not know that Isaac Todros does not take any payment. 
If I do good to my brethren, I ask only for one reward, 
that the Almighty may increase by one drop, the wisdom 
I possess already, but of which I can never have enough.'' 

The old man looked with admiring eyes at the sage, 
who, so full of wisdom, yet wished for more. 

^^ Rabbi!" he sighed, ^^ allow me to kiss your benev- 
olent hand." 

^' Kiss it," said the master gently, and when the old man 
bent his head covered with white hair the rabbi put his 
arm round him and kissed him on the forehead. 

'^ Rabbi ! " exclaimed the old man with a burst of hap- 
piness in his voice, '^you are good, — you are our father, — 
our master and brother." 

'^Blessings upon you," replied Todros, "for having 
preserved your faith unto your old age and the love for 
our fatherland, which makes you prize a handful of its 
soil more than gold and silver." 

Both their eyes were full of tears. It was the first time 
they had ever met and yet their hearts were full of brotherly 
love and mutual sympathy. 

Reb Mosze, who sat in his usual corner, waiting for the 
end of the interview, had also tears in his eyes. When 
Isaac Todros was alone he still waited a little and then said 
in a low voice, — 



MEin EZOFOVITCn. 




B. 280 

■ "^■■»' 

^1 '■ Hah ? " asked the eage, who was already buried in 

^ft myBtic gpeculutioD. 

^H " There is great news about the town." 

^V "What news?" 

" Meir Ezofovitch has found the writing of hia anceBtor, 
the Senior, and ia going to read it to-day before the as- 
sembled people." 

The rabbi was fully awake now aud craning hia nock 
towards the melamed, exclaimed, — 

" How did you come to hear of it ? " 

" Ah ! the whole town is full of it. Meir's friends since 
early morning have been amongst the people spreading the 
news. " 

Todroa did not say a word, bnt hia eyes had a keen, 
almost savage expression. 

" Nasi ! will you allow liini to do this ? " 

Todros was silent. At last he said in a determined 
voice, — 

"I will." 

Reb Mosze gave a convulsive start. 

" Rabbi 1 " he exclaimed, ■ ' you are the wisest man that 
ever was, or will be on this earth, — but has your wis- 
dom considered all the consequences, and that this writing 
may detach the people from yon and the covenant ? " 

Todros looked sternly at the speaker, — 

"You do not know the spirit of the people if you can 
think and speak like that. Have not I, and my fathers 
before me, tried to mould and educate the people and 
make them faithful to their religion ? Lot him read the 



MEIR EZOFOVITCn. 281 

papers — let the abomination come forth from its hiding- 
place, where it has lain till now, it will be easier to fight 
against it and crush it down, once and forever. — Let 
him read it — , the measure of his trangressions will then 
be full, and my avenging hand will come down upon him ! '' 

A long silence followed upon these last words. The 
master was absorbed in thoughts, and the humble follower 
looked at him in silent adoration. 

'' Mosze ! " 

^^ What is your will, Nasi ? " 

'^ That writing must be taken from him and delivered 
into my hands." 

*^ Nasi ! how is it to be taken from him ?" 

''That writing must be taken and delivered into my 
hands ! " repeated the rabbi decisively. 

'' Nasi ! who is to take it from him ? " 

Todros fixed his glaring eyes upon his follower. 

'* That writing must be taken from him and delivered 
into my hands." he repeated for the third time. 

Mosze bent his head. 

'' Rabbi ! " he whispered, '' I understand. Rest in peace. 
When he reads the abomination before the people such a 
a storm will break over his head that it will lay him in the 
dust." 

Again both men were silent. The rabbi interrupted it : 

'' Mosze ! " 
/'Yes, Nasi!" 

" When is he going to read that blasphemous writing ? " 

"He is going to read it in the Bet-ha-Midrash after 
sunset." 



MElIi KZOFOVITCH. 



^P 282 

^M '• MoBze ! go at onee to the ahamoa (messenger) and tell 
^V him to convoke the elders and the judges into the Bet-ha- 
^H Cahol for a, solemn judgment." 
^M Mosze rose obediently and went towards the door. 
^f The rabbi raising both armB, esclaimed : 

"Woe to the headstrong and disobedient! Woe to 
him who touches the leper and spreads contagion ! " 

Raying this his whole tacB became suffused with a wave 
of dark, relentless hatred. And yet a quarter of an hour 
ago the same face was full of brotherly love ; the same 
mouth spoke gentle and comforting words and the eyes 
were full of tears. 

Thus gentleness and wrath, love and relentless hatred 
dwelt aide by side in the same heart ; virtues and dark 
crimes flow from the same source. Charity goes hand iii 
hand with persecution and neighbor often stands for 
enemy. Man, who tended to human sufferings and healed 
the sick, with the same hand lit the stakes and prepared 
the instruments of torture. 

What mysterious influences rule those dual lives, asks 
the perplexed student of human nature ? 

But for these mysterious undercurrents which lead 
human brains and heart* into awful error, Habhi Isaac 
might have been a great man. 

Let us be just. He would have been a great man but 
for those that raised the weapons of Are and sword and 
the still more deadly weapons of scorn and contempt against 
his brethren and thus confined them in a spiritual and 
moral Ghetto. 




MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 283 



CHAPTER XII. 

The sun had set and the town was wrapped up in the 
dim light of a summer evening. 

The large court of the synagogue swarmed with a dense 
crowd. The interior of Bet-ha-Midrash was already full 
of people. Heads close to heads, heads of old men, young 
men and children. They all moved and swayed ; necks 
were craned, beards raised, and eyes glowing in anticipa- 
tion of some new sensation. The large room was lighted 
by a small lanu), suspended at the entrance door, and a 
single tallow candle in a brass candlestick which stood 
upon a white, table ; this with a single chair close to the 
high and bare wall, constituted the platform from which 
the speaker was wont to address the people : — In Israel, 
everybody, young or old and of whatever social position, 
has the right to speak in public, according to the demo- 
cratic principles prevailing in the ancient Law. Every 
Israelite had the right to enter this building, whether for 
purposes of praying, reading or teaching. 

The people who crowded outside the building looked 
often at tlie opposite Bet-ha-Cahol. Lights began to ap- 
pear in the windows of the room where the elders and judges 
held their conferences. In .the entrance hall the lamp was 
being lit and burning candles placed upon the long table. 
Presently people well known to the inhabitants, ascended 



a84 WK/R EZOFOVITCII. 



^H the steps of tho portico. Singly or in twos arrived the 

^M judges of the community ; all of them men well on in 

^B years, fathers of nunierouB families, wealthy merchants or 

^B ho use-own era. They ought to have been twelve in nuraher, 

^m but the bystanders only counted np to eleven. The twelftli 

^B j"<^g<' ^^ Rafaf! Enofovitch. People whispered to eacli 

^B other that the uncle of the accused could not eit in judg- 

^ meiit against him ; others eaid, he would not. After tlie 

judges, arrived the elders amongst whom, was Moreine Kul- 

maii with his hands in hia pocket and the stereotyped 

honeyed smile on his lips, and Jankiel Karaionker whoso 

t&ce looked very yellow and whose eyes had the hunted look 

of a criminal. The last but not least of them was Isaac 

Todroa who glided in so swiftly and silently, that scarcely 

anybody in the crowd noticed him. 

At the same time from the depth of Bet-ha-Midrash a 
dear, resonant voice reached the ears of the surging crowd 
without. 

" In the name of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, 
hear, oh Israel," 

The murmur of the crowd within and without increased 
and almost rose to a tumult. For a few moments the 
voice of the speaker was drowned in the general hubbub 
and his few sentences sonnded indistinct and broken. 
Suddenly somebody from the crowd shouted, — 
" Silence and listen, for it is said : Ye shall listen to 
whosoever speaketh in the name of Jehovah ! " 

"That is true," murmm-ed voices, "he began in the 
name of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jiicob." 

Then everything became quiet except for the ruatle c 



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MEIR EZOFOVITGH. 286 

those near the door who tried to get a better view of the 
speaker. They did not see anything nnusnal. Behind the 
white table, quiet and grave, stood Meir Ezofoviteh. He 
was much paler than usual and his eyes burned feverishly ; 
his emotion was not the outcome of fear or doubt but of a 
powerful conviction and radiant hope. In his hands he 
held a few sheets of old yellow paper which he raised now 
and then, to show whence he took his words. 

'' Oh Israel ! ^^ he read out, in a clear and thrilling voice, 
^^ you are a great people ! You were the first amongst 
nations who recognized one God in heaven and heard on 
earth amidst the roar of thunder and flashes of lightning 
those ten great commandments which like ten rocks helped 
you and other nations to climb towards the sun of perfec- 
tion. 

'^ Oh Israel ! blind from his birth or blinded by malice 
must be the man who fails to recognize the greatness of 
your mission. 

*^ Dry from its birth or dried by the searching breath that 
comes from the nether world must be the eye that does 
not shed a tear at the sight of your sufferings. 

^^ Ill-fated he, who looking at you calls you contemptible. 
May the Lord pity him and forgive him, as he possesses 
not the balance in which are weighed a nation's virtues 
and crimes, possesses not the wisdom which shows how pain 
and degradation produce sin. 

'^ Israel I from you was born Moses, whose love was like 
the flaming bush. David with the golden harp ; the 
beautiful Esther, weeping over the misery of her people. 
The Maccabees with their mighty swords came from 



r 



MKIH EZUFOVITCH. 
amongst you and the prophets who died for their faith. 
Whilst living happily in the land of your fathers, yon 
loathed to bind a brother into slavery ; upon your 
you left the tenth sheaf for tho poor and needy, and gave 
It hearing to anybody who spoke to the people ; humbling 
yourself only before .Jehovah, you said : We are all alike 
in the eyes of our Father. And when in after years, ill- 
fated, vanquished, covered with the blood of your Hons, 
who defended the land of their fathers, you stood an out- 
cast amongst nations and suffered from contempt and per- 
secution, yet remained faithful unto yonr God and tlie 
memory of your fathers and taught other nations who suf- 
fered like you how to defend themselves without weapona. 
The Lord has made you intelligent, pure and charitable, oh 
my people ; but it is nigh two thousand years since you did 
not possess the one necessary thing on earth — a fatherland." 

Here the voice of the speaker gave way and he paused 
a minute. The crowd had caught his emotion, and a low 
tremor seemed to pass through the people, a few subdued 
voices murmured,.— 

" Listen ! listen I It is the writing of a true Israelite who 
tells of the glory of his people." 

They listened in silence, and Meir went on, — 

"Woe to the people who have no fatherland! The 
soul of the people clings to the soil, as a child clings to 
the mother's breast which gives it nourishment, health, 
and relief from sickness. The Ijord ordained itthos ; but 
the people acted against his will, and tore yonr soul, oh 
Isntel. from the soil to which it waa attached. As an out- 
cast yon went and knocked for churity at the very doors of 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH, 287 

those who had despoiled you ; your head bent down under 
laws from which your mind recoiled ; your tongue tried 
to imitate their speech ; and the roof of your mouth dried 
up in exceeding bitterness ; your face darkened from wrath 
and humiliation, and you lived in fear lest your faith and 
the name of Israel should be obliterated from the face of 
the earth. Then under torments and awful sorrows your 
greatness fell from you, your sins and transgressions began 
to grow and multiply, and Jehovah, your Lord, looking 
down upon you said : ^ Is this my chosen people* with whom \ 
I made the covenant of Truth and Grace ? Can he not 
keep it except with the words of his mouth which do not 
agree with the deeds of his hands ? Does he see the cove- 
nant only in his offerings, songs, prayers, and incense ; and 
forgets the high ladder I showed my servant Jacob in his 
dream, to teach people in all times how to reach me, who 
is Perfection and Understanding/^^ 

Here the voice of the reader became drowned again in a 
low, ever-increasing murmur. 

^^What is it he is reading ?^^ they asked each other. 
^^ It is the writing of a bad Israelite who throws ugly words 
at his people. 

"Which are those sins that have been multiplying 
amongst us ? And how are we to praise the Lord if our 
songs and prayers have no value in His eyes ? '^ 

Meir grew paler when he found his voice powerless 
against the increasing tumult. But he would not stop 
now and went on reading. By and by curiosity prevailed 
over discontent and they became silent once more. 

They listened to the tale of Michael Senior's life ; how 



MEIR EZOFOVITCII. 



^m 288 

^m by order of the king, and out of love for his people, lie 
^M had stood at the head of their affairR, and wanted to lead 
^H them into new ways, at the end of which he saw the dawn- 
^M ing of a happy future ; how he had been thwarted in all 
^f his undertakings, and the heart of the people turned away 
from him. 

" Great thoughts crowded in my brain which I could uot 
ntter because old friends and pupils abandoned me I lu 
my breast there was fire, at which they would not warm 
themselves, and said it had been kindled by evil spirits. 
Then my body wasted away, the light of my eyes became 
dim, and the sleep of death drew near. I cried out in 
anguish ' Lord of the world ! do not forsake thy meesenger ! 
Give him a voice powerfiil enough to reach the ears of 
those that are not born, since those that live will listen no 
longer.' And I opened the holy book and read, — 
'■ ' Though be be dead, he yet speaketh.' 
" Son of my sons, you who have found this writing, read 
it to the people to let them know what I desired from 
them. 

" The first thing I asked from them was : Forgetfulness. 

" Did I want them to forget their Lord, Jehovah ? or the 

name of Israel which produced the greatest men of the 

past ? No, I could not ask them to forget it because 

the remembrance is dear to me and rejoices my heart. 

" I asked my people to forget the wrongs and sorrows 
of the pa.'it. Do not remember injuries ! do not say an eye 
for an eye ! Mar Zutra every day, before he laid down to 
rest said ; I forgive all those that have saddened me. Mar 
Ziitni was a great man. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. !>89 

" When you begin to forget Israel, you will approach 
the flame which you speak of as alien, and which belongs 
to all nations. The alien flame from which you fly in your 
blind hatred has been kindled by Sar-ha-Olam, the angel 
of knowledge, who is the angel of angels and the prince of 
the world. The knowledge of religion is sacred, but other 
knowledge has equally been created by Him who dwells 
within perfect wisdom. Good is the apple of paradise, but 
are we therefore to refuse other products of the earth ? A 
time will come when the world will be full of knowledge 
as the sea is full of water. 

" Thus spoke and wrote the sage, whom your teachers 
hold accursed. His name was Moses Maimonides, a true 
prophet who did not look into the Past but in the Future, 
for he knew that a time would come when all those who did 
not gather around the flame of wisdom would fall into the 
dust, and their name become a byword of contempt and 
derision. He was the second Moses, he was my teacher 
from whom came all my joy and all my sorrow.^' 

Here the reader dropped the hands which held the 
papers, and an expression of rapture shone in his face. 

^^ He was my teacher from whom came all my joy and 

all my sorrow.'^ Strange coincidence I both, he and his 

ancestor who died three hundred years ago had listened to 

the same teacher. In the hearts of both he had kindled 

the heroic, self-sacrificing love, the greatest upon earth 

the love of the ideal. But the descendant who read these 

words which one by one dispersed all his doubts, felt no 

sorrow ; nothing but a great joy and hope. 

A hoarse and thick voice shouted from the Gro\v<l>-' 
19 



290 MKIH EZOFOVITCH. 

■ Hear I hear I he praises alien flames I He calls tiie 
accuraed heretic a second Moscb ! " 

All heads turned towards the door to see who hud 
spoken. It was Eeb Mosze, who had climbed upon the bench 
near the door and was thus raised above the crowd ; lie 
shook his hoad, laughed derisively, and fixed his malignant 
eyes apon Meir, Bnt the people's curiosity was not yet 
satisfied ; under their ragged garments many hearts were 
beating with a now, and by themselves undefined, sensa- 
tion. 

" He speaks to us through the mouth of his doacendant I 
Listen to Iiim whose soul dwells already amongst the 
Sephiroth. " 

An old man with stooping back, who leaned upon his 
stick, raised his white head and said to Meir, plaintively,— 

" How could Israel warm himself at the sun of knowl- 
edge when they were driven away from it by their en- . 
emies ? And wo had. Rebe, once famous pliysidians ani^t 
wise men who were ministers at the conrt of kings,— ' 
but when they thrust ua from the portals of knowledge we 
went forth and said : Henceforth Israel will hold aloof 
from the stranger, like an elder brother whom the younger 
brethren have offended." 

Meir looked at the old man with a gentle half-trium- 
phant smile. 

"Eebe ! " he replied, the voice of my ancestor will giVe 
an answer to your question : 

"A time will come when wrong and injustice will dis- 
appear from earth. The gates of knowledge will bo thi 
open wide before you ; enter quickly with a joyful in 




MEIR EZOFOVITCH, 291 

because understanding is the greatest weapon given by the 
Lord who rules the world by the eternal laws of wisdom. 

^^ They do not wish to behold the works of the Creator ; 
of such it is said : ^ A fool has no delight in understand- 
ing/ 

^^ The second thing I asked from my people is : Kemem- 
brance. Eava asked Raba the son of Moro, the origin of 
the proverb : ' Do not throw mud into the fountain from 
which thou drinkest/ Raba answered with the words of 
the Scriptures: ^ Thou shalt not abhor an Egyptian because 
thou wast a stranger in his land/ Eliezer the son of Azarya 
said : ^ The Egyptians did not invite the Israelites into 
their country out of self-interest, therefore the Lord re- 
warded *them/ Since the country whose bread you eat 
did not treat you as cattle to plough his field, but as a 
tired brother to rest on his bosom, how have you rewarded 
it. Oh Israel?' 

^' It is not said thou shalt despoil the stranger, but ^ One 
law shall be to him that is home-born and unto the 
stranger that sojourneth among you/ 

^' When I was holding the office bestowed upon me by the 
king, two base Israelites were found who had gone to the 
enemy's camp and betrayed- the king's secrets and brought 
calamity and trouble upon the king's troops. What did I 
do with these base subjects ? I ordered it to be published 
by the sounds of trumpets, all over the country, that these 
two, traitors to their God and their country, were forever 
expelled from the bosom of Israel. I did this, because 
when contemplating their deed my heart boiled over with 
wrath. I saw, as if in a dream the second Moses, who aaidi 



r 



292 MKIH EZOFOVITCn. 

' Thrust tliem out uf Israel, for they have betrayed those 
that received them as guests into their land.' 

" Not only for the good of your Boula did I ask you for re- 
membrance and gratitude, but also for your earthly welfare. 
When 1 sat in the great Synod assembled at the wish of 
the king and nobles, in the rich town of Lublin, I advised 
and urged the wise and honest men to send out a pro- 
clamation that would shake the hearts and brains of the 
people, even as the gardener shakes the trees to make the 
ripe fruit fall dowu. 

" In tliis proclamation we said : ' Be useful to the coun- 
try where you live and the inhabitants will respect you. 
This is the first step towards happiness, because contempt 
is bitter and respect sweet to the human heart.' 

" But there are still other things which I have in my niiud: 
Who is the servant of the soil, has bread in abundance. 
Kow is the soil to nourish you if you treat it, not as a 
faithful servant, but as a stranger who only cares for the 
present day. 

" Rabbi Papa said : ' Do not engage in trade, but culti- 
vate the soil ; though both are good things ; but the first 
is blessed by men,' If you come into the land plant all 
kinds of trees which produce fruit, 

"There will come a time when wrongdoing disappears 
from the earth and the nations will call out to the sons of 
Israel : ' Take the plough into your bauds and cultivate 
the land, that you and your sons may eat your bread is 
peace.' But the false prophets will raise their voice and 
tell you not to till the soil in the land of bondage. 

Oh my descendant who reads this, tell the people to Iw 




MEIR EZOFOVITCn, 293 

ware of false prophets ! Call out to tliem in a loud voice : 
The false prophets have brought you low, oh Israel ! " 

It was evident that the descendant fulfilled the command 
of his ancestor with conviction and unspeakable joy. Had 
he not himself felt the deep hatred towards the false 
sages ? Why he considered them as such, he could not 
have told. His tongue was tied by want of knowledge and 
his spirit, longing for light, had beaten against the walls of 
darkness in midst of which he was imprisoned. Now he 
knew and understood ; therefore, from the depth of his 
heart he called out, — 

''Do not believe, oh Israel, in your false sages. ^^ 

The crowd grew noisy. 

''Of whom does he speak ? " 

" Who are the false sages and prophets in Israel ? " 

*' He speaks of our rabbis and learned men ; abomi- 
nable blasphemy comes out of his mouth. ^^ 

" He throws only blame upon the people of Israel ! '^ 

" He bids us to plough the soil in the land of bondage." 

"Rabbi Nochim, the grandfather of Rabbi Isaac, said to 
our fathers : ^ You shall not till the soil with your own 
hands in the land of bondage.' " 

"Rabbi Nochim was the wisest of wise men, his wis- 
dom lighted up the whole earth.'' 

" Hersz Ezofovitch quarrelled fiercely with Reb No- 
chim.'' 

" Hersz Ezofovitch was a great sinner ! " 

"Why, does he not tell us how to make poor people 
rich?" 

"He said that we ought to become servants of the aoil 



r 



HEIR EZOFOVITCII. 

which we live. When the Messiah comes and takes us 
to the promised land, we shall leave this one ; why should 
we become its servants ? " 

" It was said the writing would teach us how to change 
sand into gold ! " 

"And how to drive out evil spirita." 

" How to hring Moses to live again." 

" They have told us Ilea. There is nothing wise or 
pleaaing to the Lord in the writing." 

Questions and mutteringa followed swiftly one upon the 
other, accompanied by the aconiful laughter of those that 
had been balked in their hopes and expectations. The 
melaraed towering above the crowd, threw out insulting 
remarks or burst into a harah laughter full of venomous 
malice. Under the second wall opposite the melamed 
stood Ber on a bench. Thoae two men, standing opposite 
each other, presented a atriking contrast. The melamed 
shook his head, and waved his arms, wildly shouting and 
laughing : Her stood ailent and motionless, his head thrown 
back, resting against the wall, and from the blue eyes that 
looked into the far, far distance, tears fell down in thick 
drops. Close to Meir in a compact body stood a dozen or 
more of young men, who looked with rapt attention at the 
reader. They breathed quickly, smiled now and then, and 
raised their arms and sighed. They seemed not to see 
or hear the crowd, their spirits longing for truth and 
blindly searching after it, had fastened upon the new 
thoughts. A thin quavering voice was heard from amongst 
the crowd, " They talked much about that, long, long 
ago ; when I was young." A deep aigh accompanied the old 



MEIR EZOFOVITCII. 295 

man's words ; perhaps he was one of Hersz' friemls. 
Young boys who pushed their heads between the people 
laoghed and shouted, then disappeared again. 

The old yellow papers began to tremble in Meir's hands, 
upon his pale face appeared two red homing spots, Hu 
looked half angry, half entreatingly iit the publin'. 

"Be quiet!" he called out, "let me read to you the 
words of the great man to the end. He has chosen me as 
his messenger and I must obey his commands." 

His voice was loud and authoritatiye. His whole frame 
seemed to expand under the influence of a new power. 

"Be quiet," shouted the melamed, "let him read the 
abomination which hitherto has lain in hiding; let it come 
forth that we may stamp it out all the easier." 

"Oh, Israel!" began the youthful voice once more. 
" Oh, Israel, the third thing I ask from you is discern- 
ment. 

" In ages past, the learned men amongst us, were called 
Baale Tressim or arm or- bearers. What was their arm- 
or ? Their armor was the understanding of the cove- 
nant. Why were they armed ? To protect Israel from 
annihilation. They said : Israel shall not disappear from 
the surface of the earth, for we will give him a strong- 
hold from the covenant of Moses. Thus said the Tanaim. 
And the Sanhedrin where they sat, and the schools in which 
they taught became as the arsenal where they ground and 
prepared their weapons. Gamaliel, Eliezer, Joshua, Akiha, 
and Jehuda were amongst them like suns amongst the 
stars. Others followed in their footsteps, and through five 
hundred years they compiled, explained and wrote the 



J 



r 



296 Ml-:'ll EZOFOVITCH. 

greot book which they named the Talmud, aud which 
through centurieB was a bulwark to the Israelites, shield- 
ing them from the devouring elements. From its pages the 
sons of Israel drew wisdom and comfort, and during the 

■eat dispersion, they never were divided because tlieir 
thoughts and sighs went towards it and gathered round it, 
like children round their mother. 

" Tliis book, which during five hundred years was writ- 
ten and composed by wise and loving men, cannot be a 
foolish or a bad book. He who speaks thus of it, tell him 
to clean his heart from evil and then open it and read. 

" But is everything which is good in itself, equally per- 
fect? 

'■ There are clouds in the sky and in the purest heart, the 
Lord diacerns a flaw. Did Jehovah Himself write the hooka 
of our Law ? Did the angels write them ? Is'o. People 
wrote them. Has there ever been a man during all the 
ages who does not know what it means to go astray ? Is 
there any human work which is adequate for all times and 
all ages ? 

" The throne of the Pharaohs has been shattered, Nini- 
veh fell in ruins, Rome which ruled over half the world 
broke asunder, and Greek wisdom has made way for other 
■wisdom. The desert spreads now where once were rich 
and powerful cities, and cities are rising where formerly 
was a desert. Thus human works, the greatest of them, 
pass away, and others take their place. 

" Israel ! the nourishment which sustained your soul 
through many centuries contains grain, but also chaff. In 
your treasure hoards there are diamonds and worthless sanil. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 297 

^^ The books of your Law areas the ^pomegranate which 
the foolish man ate with the rind which left a bitter taste 
in his mouth. When Eabbi Meir saw him doing this, he 
plucked the fruit from the tree, threw away the bitter rind 
and ate the luscious fruit. I wished to teach you as Eabbi 
Meir taught the man who ate the pomegranate. I wished 
for you the gift of discernment, for the books of your faith. 
Wished that you might use your intelligence as a sieve in 
order to separate the grain from the chaff, the diamonds 
from the sand ; so that you might keep the pure grain and 
the diamonds. 

^^ You have thrust me off for this my request ; your 
hearts became liardened against me because of the fear 
and hatred towards things new. And yet it is written, — 
' Do not look at the vessel, but look at its contents.' There 
are new pitchers full of old wine, and old ones that are 
empty.'' 

"Meir," whispered Ber, "look at the people,'' and 
added, in a still lower voice, — 

" Get out from here as quick as you can." 

Meir looked around at the seething, muttering crowd ; 
a smile, half angry, half sad, came on his lips. 

"I did not expect this. I expected something quite 
different," he said in a low voice, and bent his head ; but 
he raised it almost instantly again, and called out, — 

" I am the messenger of my ancestor. He has chosen 
me to read his thoughts to you. I must obey him." 

He drew a deep breath and added in a still louder voice : 

*^He penetrated the doubts which were to arise in those 
that were not bom and gave an answer to them. He 



HEIR EZOFOVITCa. 



^m S98 

^H peuetrated into the inner life of the human bouI, which 

^B thirsts after truth and knowledge, and olfers you freedom 

^H and happiness through my mouth. 1 love him as if he 

^M had given me life. 1 bow down before the greatness of the 

^r man who has worked out his own immortality and dwells 

now in Jehovah's glory. I think as he thoiigbt. I wish 

for you what he wished. I am like him, I am the child of 

his spirit." His clear voice shook with emotion, and 

smiles and unshed tears were together on his mobile 

features. 

" My ancestor says to you that all nations are moving on 
towards knowledge and happiness, but our heads are so 
fall of little things that there is no room for great thoughts; 
that the atndy, they call Cabala, and which you consider ; is 
a cursed science, because it kills the Israelite's intellect 
and leads him away from true science." 

His voice became drowned in the general uproar, laugh- 
ter and groaning, so that only broken sentences reached 
the smali, attentive audience. Yet hedidnot ceaseapeak- 
ing, but went on quicker and quicker with heaving breast. 
It almost seemed as if recognizing the futility of his efforts 
he tried to stand on his post as messenger of the dead as 
long as he could. Perhaps he had not lost hope altogether, 
" Woe ! woe ! " called out voices in the crowd. " Heresy 
and sin have entered the house of Israel ! Ont of the 
months of children comes blasphemy against holy things." 
" Listen, listen," called out Meir, " it is still far to the 
end of my ancestor's writing." 

"Jjct us stop his mouth and drive him from the spot 
where oidy true Israelites ought to speak." 



MEIll EZOFOVITCU. 299 

" Listen, it is written here, that Israel should leave off 
expecting a Messiah in the flesh." 

" Woe I woe ! he will take from the heart of Israel this 
only hope anil comfort," 

" Because he will not fome upon earth in the shape of 
man, but in the shape of Time, bringing to all people 
knowledge, happiness, and peace." 

■'Meir, Meir, what are you doing? You will be lost, 
look at the people ! go away whilst there is time," whispered 
those around him. 

Ber stood at his side, Eliezer, Ariel, Chaim, and a few 
others surrounded him, but he neither saw nor heeded any- 
thing. Large beads of perspiration stood on the proudly 
raised brow, and his eyes looked despairingly and aiigiuly 
lit the tnmultuons crowd. 

Suddenly a dull thump was heard near the entrance door. 
The melamed had Jumped down from the beiich, and with 
his naked feet stamped several times upon the floor. Then 
in a few bounds he cleared the crowd, which made way 
for him, and with a violent jerk of his arm, threw down 
the brass candlestick with the yellow candle. At the same 
time somebody climbed on the bench and blew out the 
lamp near the door. Except for the pale streaks of moon- 
light, which came through the windows, the whole room 
was plunged in darkness, and amidst that darkness seethed 
and boiled the raging element, an exasperated populace. 

Nobody could have singled out any individual expres- 
sion. Words, curses, groans, came down like hailstones, 
and mixed together in a chaos indescribable. At last, 
from the wide open door of the Bet-ha-Midrash poured the 



I 



MKlli KZOFOVITCU. 



^V dark Btreara of people which, outside in the court, waa met 

^m by another of those who had not found room within, and 

^V were leBS noisy, though equally excited. A large wave of 

^B moonlight lit np the open apace and the Bet-ha-Cahol, with 

^f its closed door and shnttered windows. On the portico 

steps, motionless and silent, his elhows resting on his 

knees, sat the shamos (messenger) awaiting orders from the 

interior of the building, which in niidat of the uproarious 

mob stood dark and muto like the grave. 

The crowd broke up in many groups. One of them, the 
largest, crossed the gates of the precincts, shouting and 
struggling, it poured into the moonlit square, where it 
looked like a monster bird flapping its huge wings. It 
was mostly composed of poorly dressed men, with long 
beards and maliciously gleaming eyes. Children of dif- 
ferent ages flitted to and fro amongst them, picking 
np atones and mud. They all thronged towards one point, 
a single man surrounded by a bodyguard of friends. 
Pushed and knocked about, they resisted with their arms 
and shoulders until yielding to the pressure they finally 
gave way and were swallowed by the crowd. Then a shower 
of stones fell upon the back of the man, whom until now 
they had screened ; dozens of hands grasped his garments 
and tore them into strips, upon his bare head fell mud and 
handfuls of gravel picked out of the gutter. In his ears 
thundered the yells and groans of the infuriated mob, 
before his face flashed the clenched flats and inflamed faces 
of his assailants, and beyond, as if veiled in a blood-red 
mist, silent and closely shuttered, appeared the house of 
his fathers. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 301 

Towards that honse^ as if to a haveu of salvation^ he di- 
rected his steps as quick as the grasping hands and the 
children crowding round his feet, would let him. From 
his compressed lips came no sound, either of complaint or 
entreaty. He did not seem to feel the hands that smote 
him or the stones which pelted his body and which might 
maim or kill him any moment. With breast and shoul- 
ders he tried desperately to push aside the mob. It was 
not himself he defended ; but the treasure he carried ; now 
and then he touched his breast to make sure it was still 
there. Suddenly, a burly figure dressed in a coarse shirt 
and a thick stick in his hands, barred his way and 
shouted, — 

" Fools ! what are you doing ! Why do you not take 
from him the loathsome writing ? The Rabbi Isaac has 
ordered to tear the writing from him, he has hidden it on 
his breast ! " 

In an instant the young man, who had been assailed 
from the back and the sides onlv, found himself attacked 
in front. — Rough and dark hands reached at his breast, 
the convulsively clenched arms were wrenched asunder 
and they began to tear his garments. Then he raised his 
pale face towards the moonlit sky witli a despairing cry. 

'' Jehovah I " 

He felt a lithe and supple body creep up from under 
his feet and a pair of hot lips were pressed to the hand 
which hung down powerless. A wonderful contrast this 
single kiss of love in midst of all that hatred and fury. 
With a last, almost superhuman effort, he pushed off his 
assailants, stooped down and before anybody had time to 



fl02 MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 



B 90 

^H ruBh at him agaiii, lifted a child up iu his arms. It threw 
^H its arms round biB neck and looked with streaming eyes 
^B dilated with terror at the people. 

^M " It is my child ! it ie my Leibele 1 do not hurt him," 

^H called from the crowd the frightened voice of the tailor 
^M Izmul. 

^P "Rebe!" culled out several voices to the melamed, 

^ " he is sliieldiug himself behind the child, the child loves 
him I " 

' ' Take away the child and tear from him the writing I " 
yelled the melamed. 

But nobody obeyed him. They still pulled at his 
clothes at the aide and from behind, a few stones whiszed 
over his head, but he saw a clear space in front of him, 
and with a few hounds he reached the porch which an in- 
visible hand quickly opened and aa quickly bolted after he 
had entered. 

Meir put the child down in the dark passage, and he 
himself entered the sitting-room, where by the light of 
the lamp he Haw the whole family assembled, Pantingaud 
breathless he leaned against the wall and his dull eyes 
slowly looked around the room. Everybody was silent. 
Never since thehouse of Ezofovitchliad existed in the world 
had a member of that family looked like the pale panting 
youth, whose head was covered with dust and mnd, and 
whose garments hung in tatters around him. The fore- 
head, moist with the dew of mortal auguiah, was marked 
across with a red scar, caused by a rough stone, or perhaps 
some blunt instrument amidst the darkness of the Bet-ha- 
, Midrash. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 303 

But for the expression of pride and undaunted courage 
in his face^ he might have been taken for a begging outcast^ 
or a hunted criminal. 

Saul covered his face with both hands. Some of the 
women sobbed aloud. Rafael, Abram, and other grave 
members of the family rose from their seats, stern and angry, 
and called out in one voice : '' Ill-fated lad ! " They were 
about to surround him, and to speak to him, when sud- 
denly the shutters flew open with a crash, the windows 
shattered into bits, and heavy stones thundered against the 
furniture. From beyond the -shattered windows, yells and 
shouts arose, over which dominated the hoarse voice of the 
melamed. They called for Meir to give up the writing, 
heaped abuse and insults upon the family, and threatened 
them with heaven's and the people's wrath. 

The members of the family stood motionless, as if turned 
to stone from terror and shame. 

Saul took his hands from his face, drew himself up 
proudly, and went quickly towards the door. 

" Father ! where are you going ? " cried in terror the 
men and the women. 

He pointed his shaking hand at the window, and said, — 

^' I will stand in the porch of my house and tell the fool- 
ish rabble to be quiet and take themselves off.'' 

They barred his way. The women clung round his 
shoulders and knees. 

" They will kill you, father ! " they moaned. 

Suddenly the raging tumult ceased. Instead of yells, a 
low murmur passed from mouth to mouth, — 

" The shamos, the shamos, the shamos !" 



rS04 MEIH EZOFOVITCa. 

It was indeed tlie same man who, silent and motionless, 
had sat on the steps of the Bet-ha-Oahol waiting for orders, 
and who now approaclied the hotiae of Ezofovitch to pro- 
claim the sentence of the tribunal before the family of the 
accused. The crowd, stirred by ardent curiosity to hear 
the sentence, pressed close to the windows, in which not 
a single pane of glass remained. Others scattered over 
the square and in the neighboring streets drew nearer and 
surrounded the house like a dark, living wall. The door 
of the house was opened and shut again, and the shamos 
entered the sitting-room. 

He looked anxiously, almost suepiciously aroimd, and 
bowed very low before Saul. 

"Sholem Aleichem," (peace be with yon) he said, in a 
low voice, as if he himself felt the bitter irony of the 
greeting. 

"Eebe Saul !" he began, in a somewhat more assured 
Toice, " do not be angry with your servant if he briugs 
shame and misfortune into your house. I obey the cora- 
maud of the rabbi, the elders, and the judges, who sat in 
judgment upon your grandson, Meir, and whose sentence 
I am ordered to read out to him and you all ! " 

A deep silence followed upon his words. At last Saul, 
who stood leaning upon the shoulder of his son Kafuel, 
said in a low voiee,^ 



r unrolled thp papfv he was holding in his 
hand, and read. — 

"Isaac Todros, the son of Banicli. Rabbi of Szybow, to- 
gether with the judges an:i elders of theCahala, who uoii- 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 306 

atituted the tribunal of the community of Szybow, heard 
the following accusations, confirmed by many witnesses, 
against Meir Ezofovitch, son of Benjamin, — 

{1) " Meir Ezofovitch, son of Benjamin, is accused, and 
found guilty of the crime of breaking the Sabbath. In- 
stead of giving himself up to the study of holy books, he 
watched and defended the dwelling of the heretic Abel 
Karaim and raised his iiand in anger against Israelitish 
children. 

(2) " That Meir Ezofovitch was seen reading t!iB accursed 
book, "More Nebnchim' by Moses Maimonides, the false 
sage, escommunieated by many saintly rabbis and learned 
men. Read this same book aloud to his companions, thus 
teaching them heresy and other abominations, 

(3) "That Meir Ezofovitch held rebellious speeches 
against the covenant and the wise men of Israel, perverting 
thus their yonthful minds. 

(i) " That under pretext of charity and pity for the 
poor of the town, he gave them criminal and foolish advice; 
saying, they onght to see what the elders did with the 
money they received from them, and further they should 
distinguish in the covenant between G-od's work and people's 
invention, finally, told them to work in the fields like 
peasants." 

(5) " That having hair growing on his face he refused 
to get married and broke his engagement with the Israel- 
itish girl Mera, daughter of Eli, and showed thereby hia 
resolution to avoid the married state. 

(fi) " That he lived in impure friendship witli fialda. the 
granddimghter of a heretic, who not belonging to the 



r 



506 MEIH EZOForiTCH. 

faithful, had beeu allowed to live in his place through Ihs 
great charity of the rabbi and the elders, Meir the son of 
Benjamin has been seen in their dwelling, and meeting 
the girl tiolda in lonely places, taking flowers from her, and 
Joining his voice to hers in worldly son^ on a Sabbath. 

(7) "That he did not pay dnereepect to the learned men, 
and raised a sacrilegious hand against the melamed Reb 
Mosze, whom he knocked down, throwing the table upon 
him, causing thereby bodily harm to the melamed and 
great scandal in the community. 

(8) " That in his great nnheard-of malice, he denounced 
a brother Israelite, Eeb Jankiel Kamionker, before an alien, 
thereby breaking the solidarity of his people, and bringing 
Reb Jankiel into trouble and perhaps danger. 

(9) " That in hia boundless audacity he extracted the 
writing of his ancestor, Michael Senior, from its hiding- 
place, where it ought to have rotted away, and with crim- 
inal insolence read it to a large crowd of people, thereby en- 
dangering the old Law and customs of the Israelites : and as 
the writing we have been told contains blasphemous and 
peniicious doctrines we consider the reading of the said 
docnment as the greatest of all his crimes ; therefore, ao-- 
cording to the power given us by our Law over the bom 
of Israel, we decree, — 

" That to-morrow after sunset a great and terrible cureo 
will be pronounced against the audacious and disobedient 
Meir Ezofovitch, son of Benjamin, through the mouth of 
Rabbi Isaac, son of Baruch, for the hearing of which all 
the Israelites of Szybow and the environs will be summoned 
by the nieasengur, and Meir Ezofovitch will be thrust out 



MEIR EZOFOVITCIL 307 

and ignominiously expelled from the bosom of Israel. All of 
you who remain faithfnl unto the Lord and the covenant 
live in peace and happiness with all your brethren in Israel." 

The shamos had finished, and putting the paper under 
his coat bowed low, and swiftly left the room. 

For several minutes a deadly silence prevailed within 
and without. 

Suddenly Meir, who had stood like one entranced, threw 
his arms wildly above his head and uttered a heart-broken 
cry,— 

** Expelled from Israel ! cursed and expelled by my own 
people V His voice died away in a loud sob. With his 
head pressed against the wall he sobbed in great anguish. 
It was enough to hear one of these sobs which shook his 
whole frame, to guess that he had been wounded in the most 
vital part of his soul. 

Then approached his uncles, their wives and daughters, 
with voices of entreaty, auger, threats and prayers beseech- 
ing him to give up the writing of the Senior, to let it be 
burned publicly, and perhaps the decree of the elders would 
be mitigated. The men crowded round him, the women 
kissed him. 

Still shaken by sobs, and his face closely pressed to the 
wall, deaf to all the voices of entreaty and anger, his only 
answer was a motion with the head and the short monosyl- 
lables, — 

''No! No! No!" 

This single word, thrown out amidst his sobs, was more 
eloquent than the longest speech, it expressed such deep 
suffering, love, and undaunted courage. 



r 



808 MEIIl EZOFOVITCH. 

'■ Father," exclaimed Rafael, turning towards Saul, wift' 
■at alone and motionlesB. " Father ! why do you not 
mand him to humble himeelf P Bring him to reason, tt& 
him to give up the writing to us, and we will carry it to fli? 
rabbi, and ask him to relent ! " 

When Bafael said this, Meir tincovered his face and 
turned it towards his grandfatlier. 

Saul raised his head, stretched out his hands as if bliud' 
ly groping for support, and then rose. The formerly dnH 
eyes became all at once singularly restless, till they 
with the flxedlookofhia grandson. He opened his month, 
but no words came. 

'■ Speak father 1 command him ! " urged several voic» 

The old mail seemed to totter on his feet, A cmd 
struggle took place within him. Several times he tried io. 
speak, but could not — at last in a heavy wliisper, he said, 

"He is not cursed yet — I am still allowed, — 

" In the name of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, 
I bless you, son of my son ! " 

And trembling hi every limb, his eyes full of tears, bfl 
sank back on his chair. 

Those present exchanged glances full of amazement aud 
reverence. Meir bounded forwards and threw himself at 
the feet of the old man. In a low, feverish voice he spota 
of the love he bore him, about the Senior's legacy to \ai 
descendants, and that he would go out into the world 
come back Rometime. Then he rose from hia knees and 
quickly left the room. 

At this moment there was nobody near the windows rf 
the house. The great crowd of people had retrciited^ 




MEIR EZOFOVITCn. 309 

towards the middle of the square, and there they stood 
almost motionless, quietly whispering with each other. A 
singular thing happened. Scarcely had the messenger 
finished the reading of the sentence when the storm of 
wrath and anger suddenly subsided. What had happened 
to them ? Their emotional nature, which, like a stringed 
instrument, answered to the slightest touch, quivered 
under a new feeling. It was respect and sympathy for the 
misfortune of an ancient and charitable family. The 
crowd, who such a short time before had yelled and 
cursed and was ready to tear everything to pieces, became 
suddenly quiet and subdued, and began to disperse peace- 
fully. Here and there still sounded malicious laughter 
or insulting epithets, but more voices were heard in 
gentle pity. 

*^ Yet he was good and charitable ! ^' 

^* He never was proud ! '^ 

^^ He fed my foolish child and kissed it ! " 

" He saved my old father when the cart had fallen upon 
him ! '' 

*^ He worked with us like a common man and sawed 
wood ! '' 

*^ His face was shining with beauty and intelligence ! " 

^^ Cherem ! cherem ! cherem ! " * repeated many, and 
shook their heads in wonder ; faces paled with horror and 
breasts heaved with sighs. 

* Excommunicated. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 



CHAPTEK Xril. 



Three shadows glided swiftly over tlie moonlit fields 
which separated the town from the Karaite's hiil. The 
first belonged to a tail slender man, the second to a cliild, 
who clnng to the aleeve of his garment ; these two shaJowa 
were so close together that often they formed but oue. 
the third shadow showed the outline of a bnrly figure, and 
kept carefully in the distance, now and then stood still or 
bent in two, at times disappeared altogether behind some 
palings, shrubs, or trees. It was evident the shadow 
wanted to hide itself and was looking for something, 
listening and watching for something or somebody. 

At the open door of Abel's cottage a low voice called 
out, — 

" Golda ! Golda !" 

From the window bent a face whitened with the moon- 
light, and surrounded by waves of rippling hair. A tow 
passionate whisper sounded in the still evening air,— 

" Meir ! Meirl I heard a terrible noise and awful voiceal 
My heart trembled in fear ! but it is nothing now you aW 
here ! " 

Two arms were stretched forth towards the approaching 
young man. The corals on her neck quivered under the 
throbbing emotion where soba mingled with laughter. 

Snddenly she uttered a piercing cry. 





^ 


■ 


f 






H 


HPj 








'i^^S 








m 




9 


il 


1 


1 


eye. "-Pag. 


y treoflure aa tlie apple ot joia 

an. 



312 MKIll KZdFOVfTCH. 

Iimly but you. It ia safe here, it is quiet, aobody will 

Meir roBe from the bench. 

"Sleep in peace!" he said. "Imustgo; my bobI ia 
fnl! of cries, I mnat walk, walk. I shall go and throw nij- 
eelf down amongst the trees, and send my prayers up to 
Jehovah with the evening breeze ; I must unburden my 
mind of the heavy load." 

He was going away, but Golda held him by the sleeve. 

"Meir," she whispered, "tell me what has happened. 
Why did the people beat and hurt yon ? Why must yon 
go out in the world ? " 

"People liave beaten and stoned me," replied Meir, 
gloomily, " because I would not go against the truth ; and 
wonld not agree to what the people agree. I must go, be- 
cause to-morrow a terrible curse will be pronounced 
against me, and I shall be excommunicated and expelled 
from Israel." 

"Cherim!" (the curse) shrieked the girl, and threw 
her folded hands in horror above her head. She stood 
thus a moment ; then agentle, thoughtful smile came into 
her face. 

"Moir!" she whispered, '■ zeide ia cursed and I am 
cursed ; but the mercy of the Lord is greater than the 
greatest terror, and His justice vaster than the vastest sea. 
When zeide reads this he leaves off grieving and says : — 
' The cursed ones are happier than those that cnrse . . . 
because a time will come when the justice of the Lord will 
enter into the human heart, and then they will bless the 
of those that have been cursed.'" 



MEIR EZOFOVITCII. 313 

Meir looked long at the girl, whose deepset eyes glowed 
with inspiration. 

"Golda!^^ he said softly, ^^you are the second half of 
my soul, come with me into the world as my wife ; holding 
each other's hands, we will bear the curse together and 
live so that people shall bless our names." 

A great wave of fire passed over Golda's face and left it 
radiant with ineffable joy. 

" Oh Meir ! " she exclaimed. She wanted to say some- 
thing more, but could not. She bent her lithe figure very 
low and hung upon his arm. 

He put his arm around her neck and pressed his lips to 
the wavy black hair. It was only a moment. The girl 
straightened herself and with the hot blush still dyeing 
her face and trembling mouth, she said softly, — "And 
zeide ? '' 

Meir looked at her like a man suddenly aroused from 
sleep. She went on, in the same low voice, — 

" His feet are so weak, he could not go with us, and be- 
sides he would never leave the graves of his fathers. How 
can I leave him ? How could he live without me, whom 
he brought up with his hands, taught to spin, to read the 
Bible, and told all his beautiful stories ? Who would feed 
him if I went away ? Who during the cold winter nights 
would lie at his feet and warm his cold limbs ? And when 
the soul is about to part from his body, who will rock the 
old head to its eternal sleep ? Meir ! Meir ! you have a 
grandfather whose hair is white as snow, and who will rend 
his garments when you are gone. But your zeide has 
many sons, daughters and grandchildren, he is rich and 



i 814 HEIR EZoFoviran. 



H 81' 

^B respected by everybody. My zeide haa ouly this poor hut, 
^1 his old Bible, and his graoddnughter Golda." 
^B Meir aiglied. 

^B " You ure right. Golda ; but what will become of yon 
^^ when your grandfather dies and you remain alone in the 
^H world, exposed to poverty and human acorn ?" 
^P Oolda sat down because her limbs trembled. She passed 
both her hands over her hot face, and with upraised eyes 



" I shall sit before the door of this hut, spin vaj wool 
and tend the goats, looking along the road whence you 
will come back ! " 

It was an adaptation from the story of Akiba. 

Meir asked dreamily, — 

"And what will you do if people eomo and laugh at 
you and say, — ' Akibn is drinking at the spring of wisdom 
whilst your body is consumed by misery, and your eyes 
dull from weeping ? ' " 

A voice stifled with emotion, replied to him, — 

" I shali answer thus : 'Letmiaerj consume my body, and 
Diy eyes run over with tears, yet truly will I guard my hus- 
band's faith.' And if he stood before me and said : 'I have 
come back, because I did not wish you to weep any longer,' 
I should say to him : ' Go, and drink more.' " 

Meir rose. There was no despair in his face now, but 
hope and courage were depicted in his whole bearing. 

" I will come back, Rachel," he exclaimed, " Jehovah 
will give me strength, and good people will help me, if I 
show them my hard yearning after the knowledge and the 
writing of the Senior, which is the covenant, of peace be- 



MEIE EZOFOVITCH. 315 

tween Israel and the nations. I shall drink long and 
eagerly at the spring of wisdom, then come back, and 
teach my people, and for all the misery and contempt which 
you suffer, I shall put a golden crown upon your head/' 

Golda shook her head. The expression in her face 
showed she had been carried away by a wonderful dream. 
She dreamed she was Rachel, greeting her husband Akiba. 

With passionate eyes and a far-away smile, she whis- 
pered, — '^ And I shall embrace your knees, and with eyes 
that have regained their former beauty, I shall look at all 
your glory and say : * Lord and Master ! your glory be my 



crown.'*' 



They looked long at each other, and through their tear- 
ful eyes there shone a love as deep and earnest as their 
hearts were pure and heroic. 

A low, childish laughter reached their ears. They looked 
astonished in the direction whence it came. Upon the 
threshold of the hut sat Leibele holding in his arms a 
snow-white kid. The kid had been purchased at the fair, 
for the money Golda had taken for the baskets. The 
child had seen it in the entrance, brought it out on the 
threshold, and nestled his face to the soft white hair and 
laughed aloud. 

'^ The child always follows you," said Golda. 

*^ He kissed me to-day, when everybody beat and stoned 
me ; with him I shielded my treasure against their strong 
hands," replied Meir. Golda disappeared from the window 
and stood on the threshold. She bent over the child, her 
flowing hair covering his head and shoulders, and kissed 
him on the forehead. Leibele was not frightened, i' 



» 



316 MElfl EZOFOVITfll. 

seemed to feel safe here. He had seen the girl before, 
whoee luminouB eyes looked at him with an expression of 
great sweetnees. He raised his grateful, now almoat in- 
telligent, eyes to her, and whispered : " Allow me to play 
with the little goat ? " 

Will yon have some milk ? " asked Golda. 
Yea," he said, "give me some." 

lie brought a bowl full of milk, and fed the child, then 
asked, — 

" Why do yon leave your father and mother, and follow 
Meir !" " 

The child rocked hia head and replied, — ■ 

" He is better than daddy, and better than mammy. He 
fed me, and patted ray head, and saved rae from Rob 
Mosze. " 

" Whose little boy are yon ? " aaked Golda. 

Leibele remained silent, and kept on rocking his head. 
He evidently tried to collect hia confused thoughts. Sud- 
denly he raised hia finger and pointed after the retreating 
figure of Meir, and said aloud, — 

" I am hia," 

And he laughed ; but it was not the laugh of an idiot 
any longer, only the expression of joy that he had found 
the way to clothe in words the thoughts of hia loving little 
heart, 

Oolda looked in the direction where Meir had disappeared, 
and sighed heavily. Presently she rose, wrapped herself 
in a gray ahawl, went halfway up the hill, and sat down 
under a dwarfed pine-tree. Perhaps she wanted to look 
down into space and watch for his return from the woods. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 317 

Her elbows resting on her knees, her face buried in her 
hands, she sat motionless, like a statue of sorrow ; the 
black hair which covered her like a mantle, glittered and 
shone in the bright moonlight. 

In the door of the hut sat Leibele fast asleep, still hold- 
ing in his arms the white kid, which slept also. 

At the same time the low door of the rabbi's hut was 
softly opened and Eeb Mosze crept in, looking worn, 
ashamed, and troubled. He squatted down near the fire- 
place, and looked anxiously at Isaac Todros, who sat in the 
open window, his eyes fixed at the sky. -^Kabbi!'* he 
whispered, timidly. 

"Kabbi \'' he said a little louder, ^^your servant will 
look guilty in your eyes, — he has not brought the abomi- 
nable writing. The storm was fearful ; but his friends 
defended him, he himself resisted, and then a little child 
shielded him. The foolish people tore his clothes, beat, 
abused and stoned him, but did not take the writing from 
him. 

'^ Nasi ! your servant is ashamed and troubled, have 
mercy upon him, and do not punish him with the light- 
ning of your eyes.'' 

Todros, without taking his eyes off from the sky, said, — 

** The writing must be taken from him and delivered 
into my hands." 

*^ Nasi ! the writing is not in his hands any longer.'' 

^^ And where is it ?" said the rabbi, in a louder voice, 
without turning round. 

** Rabbi ! I should not have dared to appear before you, 
had I not known what became of it. I followed him, my 



litis MEin EZOFOVITCB. 

whole Boul entered into my eyea and ears. I saw how he 
gave the writing to the Karaitish girl to hide it, I heard 
bow )ie called it hie treaanre, and his passport to go into 
the world with, and which would open for him the hearts 
i of the people. " 

TodroB shuddered convulsively. 

' It IB true," he whispered angrily. ■■ That writing will 
be to him a shield and weapon, at which our sharpest 
arrows will have no effect. Mosze ! " he said, in a more 
determined voice, " the writing must be taken from the 
Karaitiah girl." 

The meSamed crawled to hia maater's knees, and raising 
his face to him said, in a low voice,^ 

'■ Rahhi 1 the girl said she wonld lay down her life sooner 
than part with the writing." 

TodroB was silent for a moment, then repeated, — 

" The writing must be taken from her." 

The melamed remained silent and thoughtful a long 
time. 

"Rjibbi !" he said, in a very low whisper, "and if any- 
thing happens to the girl ? " 

Todros did not answer at once. At last he said, — 

" Blessed is the hand tliat removes garbage from the 
house of Israel ! " 

The melamed seemed to drink in the words eagerly and 
ponder over their meaning. Then he smiled. 

" Rabbi ! " he said, " I have understood your wish — de- 
pend upon your servant, — he will find men whose hands are 
strong and hearts are steel. — Rabbi I " he added, entrcat- 
ingly "let a gentle ray from your eyes fall upon your 



MEIR EZOFOVITCE. 



319 



servant ; let him see your wrath is softened towards him. 
My soul without your love aud favor is like a well without 
water or a dark prison where no sun enters," 

Todros replied, — 

"No gentle ray will come from my eye, nor will my 
wrath he softened till the writing has been torn out of the 
accursed hands." 

Mosze groaned. 

" Rabbi, the writing shall be in your hands to-morrow." 

The moon fell bright upon the faces of the men, of 
whom one looked at the heavens, the other into his mas- 
ter's face. 

The master searched the heavens for the silvery streaks 
which are the ways the angels travel from star to star 
throughout eternity. The disciple looked into the raaa- 
ter's eyes for the reflection of the mysterious light. 

lu both their heads was present the name of the iiugel 
of death whom they had conjured up ; yet both their hearts 
were full of love and reverence. 




umii EZOFOvrtcH. 



CHAPTER XrV. 



« 



M 820 

^H ExTRAOKDiXART emotion prevailed amongst the popu- 

^M lation of thfl little town. From all parte they thronged 

towards the houBe of prayer, where, under the three-storied 

roof, the row of high and narrow windows blazed with 

light. The stars twinltled feebly and paled before the full 

The interior of the synagogue, large and roomy, would 
easily hold several thousand people. The high and smooth 
walls, forming a perfect square, were cut across by a long, 
heavy gallery, divided into niches, not unlike private 
boxes, and surrounded by a high, but transparent, grating. 
Wooden benches, closely standing together, filled the body 
of the synagogue from the entrance door np to the raised 
platform, which was surrounded with a highly ornamented 
grating. There was a table on tliat platform, used for un- 
folding the leaves of the Tora on days when extracts from 
it were read to the people. It served also as a pulpit when, 
on solemn days, speeches or religious teachings were de- 
livered. Here also stood the choir of young men or grown- 
up children, who united their voices or answered to the 
intonating singer. The platform was about a dozen feet 
from the principal point of the building, which looked 
very impressive in its dignity and blaze of color. It waa 
the altar, or the place where the huly of holies was pre- 



MEIR EZOFOVITCB. 321 

served. The top of the altav reached up to the ceiling, 
and consisted of two great tables incriisted with lapis- 
laznli and covered with white letters, like striiiga of ara- 
besques, in a rich and fantastio design, in which the 
initiated eye read the ten command men ts. The tables of 
lapis-laznli were supported by two gilt-bronze lions of huge 
size resting upon two heavy columns of the intensest blue, 
surrounded with white garlands of vine-leaves and grapes. 
All this rose from a heavy stone foundation, tiie large sur- 
face of which from top to bottom was covered with in- 
scriptions from the Bible. The two columus stood like 
powerful guards on either side of a deep recess, veiled 
entirely with a red silk curtain richly embroidered with 
gold. Behind this curtain, only raised at certain times. 
lay the holy of hoiie.i, the Tora, a great roll of paiThnient 
covered with costly siik and tied with ribbons embroidered 
in gold and silver. Seven chandeliers, of a hundred lights 
each, iihiminated the gallery above, showing behind the 
transparent grating innumerable female figures in bright- 
colored dresses ; below, the benches, where the men were 
sitting in their soft white talliths. Around the necks of 
the more prominent members gleamed large silver bands 
worked in delicate bas-relief. The costliest and largest of 
the seven chandeliers hung suspended by heavy silver 
cords before the red silk cnrtain, and reflected in the 
heavy gold embroidery, and showed the delicate design of 
the vine-leaves twining round the columns. Here stood 
Eliezer, the singer who intonated the old psalms, the 
limitless melodies of which resound with all the voices of 
human joy, suffering, and entreaty. Never had the beau- 



322 MKIS EZOFOVITCU. 

tiful voice produced richer or mellower tonea ; never had 
it vibrated with such deep emotiou. It almost seemed te 
if tliat evening a superliuman power had taken poaseaaion 
of him. Now and then his voice died away in a. low wail ; 
then it rose again with auch voluniinoiis power of entreaty 
as if it carried him on the wings of his own voice before tliB 
tlirone of Jehovah-to plead for something or Bomebody. 

The whole building was filled with the sound, in wbicli 
now and then joined the choir of young voices. There waa 
ii deep silence amongst the congregation. Here and there 
somebody whispered, — 

" It ia like the augel Sandalphon, who oflers to Jehoviili 
the garlands made from human prayers." 

Others shook their heads sadly : " He ia pleading for his 
friend, who ia to be excommunicated to-night." 

Suddenly the singer's voice was interruptetl by a heavy 
thump, repeated several times ; it ceased as if the golden 
string had been torn asunder by a brutal hand. The choir 
disappeared from the platform, and in their place stood 
one man, whose dark, piercing eyea looked more bauefiU 
than ever. In both hands he held a heavy book, witli 
which he struck the table as a aignal for silence. Through- 
out the building everything was quiet, except in the 
portico, where some twenty people surrounded a yoimg 
man who, with a deathly pale face and compressed lips, 
stood leaning against the wall. 

AVhisperers crowded around him. 

"It is still time. Have mercy upon yourself and your 
family. Run quick, quick, throw yourself sit the feet of 
the Rabbi ! Oh cherem ! cherem I cherein ! " 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 323 

He did not seem to listen. His arms were crossed over 
his breast. The contracted forehead, marked with the red 
scar, gave him the expression of inward pain, but also of 
inflexible courage. 

'' In the name of the God of our fathers, ^^ sounded the 
loud voice of Isaac Todros. 

A long sigh like a tremor seemed to shake the whole 
congregation, and then everything became silent. 

Isaac Todros spoke slowly and impressively, — 

^' By the force and power of the world, in the name of 
the holy covenant and the six hundred and thirteen com- 
mandments contained in the covenant, — with the maledic- 
tion of Joshua against the town of Jericho, with the maledic- 
tion of Elisha, against the children who mocked him, with 
the shamanta used by the great Sanhedrims and Synods, 
with all the cherems and curses used from the time of 
Moses to this day, — in the name of the God Eternal ; in the 
name of Matatron, the guardian of Israel ; in the name of 
the angel Sandalphon, who, from human prayers wreathes 
garlands for the throne of Jehovah ; in the name of the 
Archangel Michael, the powerful leader of the heavenly 
army ; in the name of the angels of fire, wind and light- 
ning ; in the name of all the angels conducting the stars in 
their courses, and all the archangels who are spreading 
their wings above the throne of the Eternal ; in the name 
of Him who appeared in the burning bush, and -by the 
power of which Moses divided the waters ; in the name of 
the hand who wrote the tables of the holy Law ; — we expel, 
disgrace, and curse, the strong, disobedient, and blasphe- 
mous Meir Ezofovitch, son of Benjamin. 



» 



r 



824 MEIH EZOFOVITCH. 

He paused a little, and with a vehement motion, r&iBed 
both his arms above his head and amidst the deepest si- 
lence, he went on faster and louder, — 

" Be he accnrsed by heaven and earth ; by the angela 
Matatron, Sandalphon, jind Michael ; by all the angels, 
archangels, and heavenly orbs. Be he aceorsed by ail 
pnre and holy spirits which serve the Txird ;— aconrBed by 
every power In heaven and upon earth. Let all creation 
become his enemy, that the whirlwind crush him, and tlie 
sword smite him. Let his ways be dangerous and covered 
with darkness, and let the greatest despair be his only com- 
panion thereon. Let sorrow and nnhappiiieaa waste liis 
body, let his eyes look upon the heavy blows falling upon 
him. Let the Lord never forgive him. Nay, let ths 
wrath and revenge of the Lord eat deep into his marrow. 
Let him be wrapped np in the ciirse aa in a garment ; let 
his death be sudden and drive him into utter darkness." 

Here Todros paused again, to draw a deep breath into his 
exhausted lungs. His voioe had become every minute 
more labored, and liia sentences more broken. His fuoe 
was burning, and his arms waved wildly above hia 
head. 

" From this moment," he shouted again, " from the mo- 
ment the curse has falleu upon him, let him not dare to 
approach the house of prayer nearer than four yards. Un- 
der the threat of excommunication, let no Israelite approach 
him nearer than four yards, nor open to him his honsc, or 
give him bread, water, or fire, though he saw him dying 
with thirst, hunger, and disease. Nay, let everybody s]jit 
upon him and throw atones under his feet, that he may 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 325 

stumble and fall. Let him not have any fortune, either 
what he has earned himself or what comes from his par- 
ents ; let it be given up to the elders of the Cahala, to be 
used for the poor and needy. 

** This curse which has fallen upon him, let it be made 
public all over Israel, wherever you go, and we will send 
the tidings of it to all our brethren to the farthest confines 
of the world. 

" This is our decree, and you all who remain faithful 
unto the Lord and His covenant, live in peace. ^* 

He had finished, and at the same time, by some arranged 
contrivance, all the light in the seven chandeliers grew 
dim, and in the four corners of the edifice, trumpets be- 
gan to sound in a low, mournful wail, in which joined a 
chorus of sobs and loud moans. A heartrending cry came 
from the portico, which was all the more terrible, as it came 
from the breast of a young and powerful man. There was 
a noise of many feet and the sound of somebody driven 
out. Meir disappeared from the house of prayer. Amongst 
the benches, near the altar, came the sound of rent gar- 
ments and grave men fell down on their faces. 

*^ In the dust lies the mighty house of Ezofovitch,^^ said 
several voices pointing at them. 

From the gallery came the loud sobs and wailing of 
women, and in the background of the edifice, people 
without silver ribbons round their tilliths, wrung their 
hard, work-stained hands. 

Todros wiped the perspiration from his brow, with his 
ragged sleeve, and leaning upon the balustrade with heav- 
ing breast and twitching lips, looked at the singer. H5ik 



I 



r 



MEin EZOFortTcn. 

did not leave the platform and looked at the singer, for, 
according to prescribed rules, a blessing for »!! the people 
ought to follow the curse. It was the aiuger's duty to iu- 
tonate it, Todros waited for it. Why did the singer de- 
lay 80 long ? Why did he not take up his last words : ' live 
in peace ' and intonate the hleesing ? Eliezer stood with 
hie face turned to the altar. Whilst the rabbi pronounced 
the curse, his whole frame shook under the folds of the 
tallith. By and hy he grew quieter, stood motionless, and 
his eyes seemed to look far, far in the distance. At last 
ho raised hia arms. It was the sign for silence and prayer. 
The trumpets which ha*l kept on the low, mournful wail- 
ing, grew silent, the human sohs and cries ceased. The 
dim light blazed up again, and amidst the deepest silence, 
interrupted hy some stifled sobs, rose the pure and silvery 
voice of Eliezer, — 

"Oh Tjord. who blessed onr fathers, Abraham, Isaac, 
Jacob, Moses, Aaron, David, the prophets of Israel and all 
righteous people, pour down yonr blessing upon the man 
who this day has been injured by an unjust curse. 

" God, in your mercy shield and guard him from all un- 
happiness, prolong the years of his life, and bleaa all hia 
undertakings. Belease him from distress and darkness, 
and fetters, together with all bis brethren in Israel. 

" Do this, Lord. Say all unto me. Amen." 

lie stopped, and there was a short silence of stupefac- 
tion, and then out of several hundred throats came the 
cry. Amen I Amen 1 called out the members of the Ezo- 
fovitch family, who rose from the floor, shaking the dnst 
from their rent garments. Amen 1 caUed out the group of 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 327 

poor people who had wrung their black, work-stained 
hands. 

"Amen!^^ came from the gallery the voices of the 
weeping women. " Amen ! " repeated at last a chorus of 
young voices. 

The rabbi took his hands off the balustrade and looked 
around the congregation with amazed eyes. 

'' What is that ? What does this mean ? '' 

Then Eliezer turned his face to him and the people. 
The hood of his tallith had slipped from his head on to 
his shoulders. His usually white face was flushed, and his 
blue eyes glowed with anger and courage. He raised his 
hand and said in a loud voice, — 

" Eabbi ! it means that our ears and our hearts will not 
listen to any such curses any more ! '' 

These words were like the signal for battle. Scarcely 
had he finished speaking, when some fifty young men 
ranged themselves on either side of him. Some were the 
excommunicated man^s personal friends, others had only 
seen him from a distance, amongst them were even those 
who had blamed him and condemned his rashness. 

" Eabbi ! " they called out, " we will hear such curses no 
more ! " 

^^ Rabbi ! your curse has made us love the accursed ! '^ 

" Rabbi ! with that cherem you have laid a burden 
upon a man who was pleasant in the eyes of God and 
man ! '' 

Todros with a mighty effort seemed to rouse himself 
from the numbness into which the unexpected rebellion had 
plunged him. 



^V 828 .i/f;;« rzofovitvii. 

^H " What is it you want I " he ehouted " What are yon 
^B speaking of. Has the evil spirit bewitched you ? Do you 
^B not know that our Law commanda to curee those that 
^1 rehi;! against the holy covenant 'i" 

^T ' Not from amongst the yoiiog men, hut from the benches 
where the elders were sitting, came a grave voice, — 

" Rabbi 1 do you not know, that when the old Sanhe- 
drim were in fierce debate whether to adherS to the teaching 
of Hillel or Shamai,a mysterious voice, 'Bat Kohl,' taken 
for the voice of God himself, was heard : ' Listen to the Law 
of Hillel, for it is full of charity and gentleness.'" 

All heads were craned in the direction whence the speecii 
had come. It came from Rafael, the uncle of the excommu- 
nicated. 

At this momput Bor made his way through the crowd 
and stood at the side of the young men. 

" Rabbi ! " he exclaimed, " have you ever counted the in- 
\ telleets yon and your forefathers crushed with your despoil 
ism ; all the souls eager for knowledge you thrust iutu 
darkness and suffering i"' 

" Rabbi ! " said a youthful, almost childish voice, " will 
you and those that stand by you, always keep from ua all 
knowledge after which our minds are yearning ? " 

"Why do you, Rabbi, not teach the people to use their 

intelligence as a sieve, to divide the grain from the chaff, 

• and the pearls from the sand ? Rabbi ! you have made us 

eat the pomegranate with the bitter rind, we begin to fee! 

the acrid taste of it and it causes pain." 

"Unhappy, raiagnided youths! reprobates." shouted 
^^k TodroB pasaionatelv, *■ did vou not see with vour own eyes, 

Ik ' ' 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 329 

that the people hated him, stoned him, and marked his 
forehead with a red scar ? " 

Proud and scornful laughter answered his speech. 

" Do not agree with everything the people say/' and 
one voice continued : ^^ The curse you pronounced against 
him has softened many hearts and opened many eyes/' 

" Malicious promptings stirred up hatred against him, 
but to day all hearts are full of compassion, because with 
your curse you have killed his youth/' 

" It is worse than death, rabbi, for amongst the living 
he will be like one dead." 

*^ And is it not written in the statutes of the great San- 
hedrim ^ The tribunal which once in seventy years pro- 
nounces a sentence of death will be called the tribunal of 
murderers ? ' 

" In the Sanhedrim did not sit childless and stony- 
hearted men.'' 

*^ Who soweth wrath, reapeth sorrow ! " 

Such and similar were the sentences which fell like hail 
around the rabbi, accompanied by threatening looks and 
indignant gestures. • 

Todros did not answer any more. He remained quite 
motionless and, with his mouth open and raised eyebrows, 
presented the picture of a man who does not understand 
what is going on around him. Suddenly, the melamed 
rushed from the crowd, jumped over the balustrade, and 
spreading out his arms as if to shield the beloved master, 
confronted the people and shouted in angry tones, — 

"Woe! woe! to the insolent who does not reverence 
those who serve them before the Lord ! " 



880 MEIIi KZOFOVITCB. 



^ 



^m 881 

^B Eliezer replied : 

^H '■ No wall is to be raised between the Lord and his people. 
^H We appointed men from amongst ns to study the law in 
^H order to teach it to the ignorant. But we did not tell 
^M them, -we deliver our souls unto you in bondage ' ; because 
^H every Israelite is free to search for the Lord in his own 
^P heart ttnd to explain His words according to his intelli- 
^^ gence." 

Others exclaimed, — 

" In Israel there are no higher and lower grades. We 
are aU brethren in the eyes of the Creator, nobody has tbe 
right to fetter our will and intellect." 

" The false prophets have lost us, becanse they divided 
na from other nations, that we are even as prisoners iu tlie 
dark, left in loneliness." 

" But A time will come when Israel will shake oS his 
fetters, and the blind aud proud spirits will fall down 
from their heights and the imprisoned aonls will regain 
their liberty." 

Isaac Todroa raised his hands slowly to his head as a man 
who tries to rouse himself from sleep ; then he leaned again 
npon the balustrade, raised his eyes, and sighed deeply,^ 
" Ensoph I " he said, in dreamy whisper. 
It was the cabalistic name of God which whirled acroBS 
his despairing mind. But as if in protest against the doc- 
trines which had encumbered the pure Mosaic faith, a 
chorus of voices answered, — " Jehovah ! " 

The melamed's body shook as in a fit of ague. With 
violent speech and gesture, he called npon the people to 
Btand up for their beloved sage, and punish the audacious 



MEIB EZOFOVITCH. 331 

rebels. But the more he spoke, the more amazed he grew. 
Nobody moved. The rich and prominent members of the 
community sat silent, their foreheads supported on their 
hands, their eyes riveted to the floor ; they were in deep 
meditation. The bulk of the people remained motionless 
and mute. 

The melamed understood at last that all efforts to rouse 
them were useless. He became silent, but his eyes opened 
wider in great wonder ; he could not understand why they 
did not listen. 

But through the misty brain of Isaac Todros passed a 
ray of light and he got a glimpse of the terrible truth. 
Something whispered to him that in the young breasts all 
the dormant desires and aspirations, of which the excom- 
municated man had been the interpreter had stirred into 
life. The young man was, then, not the only one ; but he 
was bolder, more enterprising, and proud. He heard an- 
other whisper. The young heads whose bold attitude had 
made him powerless to-day, had been touched by the wing 
of the angel of Time ; which, as he perceived in a dull, 
indistinct way, was full of rebellion and upheaving, and 
would break down the barriers he had raised between them 
and the highest truth. And he heard again why the people 
had not stood up for him, because the angel of Time, who 
carries with him rebellion and battle, also brings charity 
and forgiveness, and sweeps away curses and hatred with 
his powerful yet soft wings. 

All this Todros heard in a dim and vague way, but it was 
enough to benumb his heart, full of petrified faith and 
pride. 



I«32 



MKII! KZOmVITCll. 



^H " Bat Kolil." lie whispered. 

^B The voice of Jiis own conscience he took for the mysteri- 

^B ous voice said to be heard in great crises by the lawgivers 

^1 and priests of Israel. 

^B " Bat Kohl," he repeated with trembling lips, and turned 

^H Ilia guzG around the bnilding. 

^P The interior of the synagogue wiis half empty. TJie 

^ people dispersed slowly and silently. There was the rustle 

of the belated women in the gallery, and then everything 

was quiet and deserted. 




MSIB SZOFOVITCH, 333 



OHAPTEE XV. 

Like Joseph Akiba, coming back in the moonlit night, 
pale and trembling to his shepherd's hut, so Meir ap- 
proached the house of his fathers. 

He went towards it, but without the intention of entering 
it any more. He knew that he would have to go away, to 
pursue in loneliness and misery the great aim he saw in the 
far, far distance, and which was so difficult to reach. He 
wanted to see the house once more, but did not intend to 
cross its threshold. Amongst the many darkened windows, 
he saw one where a light glimmered. He stood still and 
looked at it. Through the window he saw the motionless 
figure of the great grandmother in her easy-chair. A wave 
of moonlight made the diamonds sparkle. 

Meir slowly ascended the steps of the porch and touched 
the door latch. It yielded to the pressure. Against the 
usual custom the door was unlocked. He entered the nar- 
row passage and stood- in the door of the sitting-room, 
which was wide open. The whole house was wrapped up in 
darkness and silence. 

Was everybody asleep ? Not likely, but not the slightest 
noise was to disturb the last farewell between great-grand- 
mother and her great-grandson and drive him from her 
knees. Meir knelt down before the sleeping woman, who 
smiled in her dream and put his head upon her knees. It 
was the last time he rested under the roof of his fathers- 



»-8Si MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 

" Bobe," he aaiil softly, " Elte Bobe ! " 
Freida slept peacefully as a child, the rays of the moon- 
light played on the wrinkled face like childish dreams. 

" I shall uever see you again, never any more." 

He pressed his lips to the dear old hand, which had 
given hira the treasure which was his salvation and ruin, 
life and death. 

Frieda's head moved gentJy. 

" Kleiniskind I " she whispered, without opening her 
eyes. 

Meir lost himself in thoughts. His forehead resting on 
tlic groat-grand mother's knees, he said farewell to every- 
thing and everybody around. 

At last he rose and slowly left the room. 

In the dark passage he felt suddenly two strong arms 
closing around him and a heavy object was put in his 
pocket. 

" It is I, Ber. Your grandfather looked around the 
family for a courageous man who would give you a hand- 
ful of money on the way ; and found me. Everybody in 
the house mourns for you, — the women have taken to 
their beds, crying, your uncles are angry with the rabbi and 
the elders, — the grandfather is almost beside himself with 
grief, but nobody will see yon any more. It is thus with 
us ; reason drags one way. the old faith the other. They 
are afraid. But Meir, do not you grieve ! You are happy, 
I envy you 1 Ton have not been afraid to do what I did 
not dare to do, and you will win. To-day your friends 
stood np for you, and the people wore silent and did not 
defend the rabbi. It is the beginning ; but the end is still 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 335 

far off. If you showed yourself to-morrow before the 
people, their wrath would flare up again. Go ! go into the 
world. You have youth on your side and courage ; life is 
before you. ^ 

'* Sometime you will come back and put an end to our/\ 
sins and darkness. We have many diamonds, but they 
want sifting. Go forth now to conquer. Be like Baale 
Tressim, armor-clad like our ancestors, and my blessing 
and the blessings of those who like me wished but could 
not ; longed, but did not obtain what they longed for ; be 
with you.^^ 

They exchanged farewells, and Ber disappeared as 
silently as he had come. The deep silence of the whole 
house seemed to bid the excommunicated youth to go hence. 

When he left the house, it had begun to dawn. The 
market square and adjacent streets were asleep. The whole 
town was wrapped in the gray mist of an almost autumnal 
morning. 

He swiftly crossed the mist-covered fields to get away 
and say farewell to her, who had promised to be a faithful 
Rachel to him and claim from her his treasure. 

The door and window of the little hut stood wide open. 

" Golda ! '' he called softly, -" Golda ! " 

There was no answer. 

He repeated his call, but the silence remained unbroken. 
He drew nearer and looked at the spot where old Abel was 
wont to sit, it was empty. 

A strange, undefined dread took hold of him. 

He looked around, up the hills and along the fields, and 
called in a loud voice, — 



rSS6 MEIH EZOFOVITVa. 

■' Golda ! " 
There was a alight rustle uot far off. It came from a 
wild rose-bush, from amongst the branches of which rose 
the sleepy figure of little Leibele. 
Meir went quickly up to him. The child disengaged 
himself from the branches and put bis hand under his 
coat. 
" Where is Golda ?" asked Meir. 
Leibele did not answer, but handed to him the roll of 



papers. 

Meir bent towards the child. 

" Who gave you that ?" 

"She," answered Leibele, pointing to the hut. 

" When did she give it to you ? " 

The child answered, — 

"When the people were coming, she rushed out of the 
hut, woke me, and put the roll under my coat, and said, 
' Give it to Meir when he comes,' " 

Meir began to tremble. 

" And afterwards ? " he asked, " afterwards ? " 

" Afterwards, moreine, she hid me in the bnsh, and went 
back to the hut." 

'■How many people wore there ?" 

" Two, moreine, three — ten — I do not know." 

•' And what did they do ? What did the people do ? " 

" The people came, moreine, and shouted and screamed 
at her to give up the writing, and she screamed that she 
would, would not, and the goat in the entrance, ran 
about and bleated." 

Meir trembled in all bis limbs. 



MEIR EZOFOVITCH. 337 

" And then what happened ? " 

" Moreine, she took the spindle into her hands and stood 
before her zeide. I saw it from the bush. She was so 
white, and the spindle was white, and the people were black 
— and amongst them the goat kept on running and bleating. " 

" And then ? and then ?'' 

^' Then, moreine, I did not look any longer, but cowered 
down in fear, because in the hut there was such a noise, 
such moans. Then the people went away — and carried her 
— and carried her grandfather, and the goat ran up the 
hill bleating, and I do not know where it has gone/' 

Meir straightened himself and looked up to the sky with 
stony eyes. He knew everything now. 

*^ Where did they carry them?'^ he asked in a dull 
whisper. 

^^ There.'' 

The outstretched arm of the child pointed in the direc- 
tion where, in the gray mist, the meadow was dimly visible 
and the pond — beyond the pond were marshes and bogs, 
where two lifeless bodies could sink easily. There, beyond 
the meadows, where in spring she had gathered yellow 
lilies amongst the rushes, and unconsciously betrayed her 
fresh and innocent love, — there, hidden from all human 
eyes, she was lying at the feet of her grandfather, wrapped 
in the wealth of her black hair. 

A threefold cry of Jehovah rung out in the still morning 
air, and only Leibele remained before the door, holding in 
his raised hand the scroll of paper. 

Meir had gone into the hut. 

What a terrible story was revealed to him ; the straw lying 
17 



[838 MElli EZOFOVITCH. 



^H ubout Abel'e couch, and amoug^t it, like drops of blood, 
^H Golda'a red corals ? The broken epioidle and the old Bible 
^B toru in ehreds told tlieir tale. It was a long and crnel 
^K tale, to which the young man listened, his head pressed 
^H against the old wall ; a talo bo long that honrs passed orer 
^^ his head and he still ligtened with beating heart and 
^m trembling limbs. 

^m When he stood again upon the threshold the snn was 
^B brightly shining. How terribly changed he looked. The 
^P forehead, marked with the red scar, was seamed and cor- 
rugated as if long years of suffering had ploughed the 
iince smooth surface. The half-shut eyes had a dull, 
iJespairing lustre, and his arms hung down limp and power- 
less. He stood thus a few minutes as if intently listening 
for the sound of the voice he should hear never more ; 
when a weak hand tugged at his clothes and a small voice 
said, — 

" Moreine." 

Leibele stood before him, his mournful eyes raised np to 
him, and stretched out the hand which held a roll of paper. 
It seemed as if the sight of the papers reminded Meir of 
something, roused him from sleep, and told him to do 
Bomethiug which was sacred and important. He passed 
both hands over his forehead and then took the Senior's 
legacy from the child's hands, and at the touch of it he 
raised his head and liia eyes seemed to regain their old 
power and courage. 

He looked at the town waking up from sleep and mur- 
mured something in a low voice. Something about Israel. 
its paat greatness and its great sins, and that he would 



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